Ignis and Ardor
by Esuerc Marcellus Voltimand
Summary: After an unfortunate turn leaves Loki and his dear friend separated across realms, he sets out to see her safe return to Asgard. To what ends will he travel, through what realms will he venture? And in the end, will she wish to return with him? And what scours the Earth for ancient relics, mysterious gems that are keys to a most powerful weapon? Loki/OC.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, you guys. This is my first Marvel story, seeing that I WAS working on a DC Batman a while ago, my Skyrim one currently, and a few others that are mainly on DeviantART. If you want to look me up there, my name is ESUERC, too. So yeah, I didn't really mean for this to turn into a story, as it was originally just a lot of drabbles and doodles I'd thrown together. But, I ended up liking it so much and had some pretty positive feedback that I decided to go with it.  
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**Ignis and Ardor**

**Chapter 1**

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Any other night the air would be filled with jovial laughter, the sound of merriment, resounding from the feasting hall within the grand palace seated in the centre of Asgard. Wine, meats and other delicacies shared and spread about for all to see, goblets filled to their brims and the air thick with warmth from the hearth. But this night a tumultuous rain fell upon the antiqued gold and bronze of Asgard, cleared out the wide streets of inhabitants and clouded the varied colours of the heavens above.

But this did nothing to end the excitement shared amongst many throughout Asgard, celebrating Thor's valiant return from his battle with the mighty Mangog- dreaded beast bent on the destruction of the Nine Realms and anything and everything in between.

Past several guard a small group walked with ease, their gaits leisurely and relaxed. The rain grew more violent as they passed through the hall, their voices echoing on the engraved walls and resounding all about them- though their conversation remained unheard to the loyal guardsmen that stood ever around.

A much larger man, his beard a dark copper and his girth nearly as wide as two men, walked alongside a smaller woman, both equally clad in armour despite the elements outside. Several others followed behind, too engrossed in their own conversations to truly acknowledge one another fully. The smaller woman laughed heartily at the joke of her partner, and slapped at his arm playfully when he ruffled at the short warrior stripe running down the centre of her head.

"Volstagg, that's not funny." She retorted despite her laughter from moments before.

"You have to admit, Valr, it might be time to retire the look." Volstagg replied as he rubbed away at the small pain in his arm before his hand rose up to sweep at the woman's hair once again. "Your father, his father, your brother, and your mother- all of them have that same stripe. Perhaps, you—"

"It's tradition." Valr, as she was known, clarified to Volstagg the Voluminous, hoarder of sweet treats, drinker of meads, and devourer of fanciful feasts.

Behind the group, which consisted of the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and the most powerful and slightly hardheaded Thor, walked the thin, lithe figure of Loki. Disconnected from the various intermingling words ahead of him, he looked out to the rain beyond the safety of the palace roof, his hands knitted loosely behind his back and his head bowed as though in deep thought. He let loose a quiet "oomph" as he suddenly made contact with a figure in front of him, only to find Valr standing steadfast at the toes of his boots.

She laughed at the knitting of his brows and patted his slumped shoulder in mild amusement. "Come on, Loki, cheer up." She demanded, and grinned as his face remained unchanged from the half idled stare with which he looked at her. "Alright, I know you hate it when a prank backfires, but you have to admit," her face contorted into a look of discomfort at the memory, her lips drawn into an awkward grimace, "Heimdall doesn't make the best candidate."

It was quite amusing when she looked back on it, the thought that Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost, would fall for such a simple trick. Loki should have known better than to tempt him, to try and trick him into falling to the waters below the Rainbow Bridge, gracing the edge of the world by mere feet. The trick was cruel to be sure, but any prank, foul or otherwise, brought a sense of hilarity to the daily life of the God of Mischief.

Loki plucked her hand from his shoulder and allowed his grip to linger for a moment before he released her, "It would have worked had you not said anything." His eyes fell to the floor as the group walked slowly away from them to a nearby doorway, the sounds of the feasting hall beyond heard down the expanse of the walkway, "And it certainly did not help that you proceeded to push me in afterwards." He pulled at his damp clothes with hidden annoyance, his eyes traveling up to meet the small grin on her face, "Though I suppose I should not have expected otherwise."

"Be happy for Thor, Loki." Valr prodded, her hand wrapped around one of the curved horns atop his elegant helmet, her attempt at changing the conversation from anything but the drag of Loki's wet cape on the floor. Her brows raised in an exaggerated expression, her finger poised at his chest as though for emphasis.

"I can assure you, I am nothing but 'truly' happy for my brother." Loki shifted his head and removed the finger pointed into his armour, "You, however, I cannot say the same." She seemed disappointed with his answer and hung her head with a nervous grin for a moment, her hand at the back of her neck sheepishly.

Valr turned about on her heel and traveled toward the awaiting doors, the party within alive and steady, "It's been that way since we were children, Loki. Thought you would have been used to it by now." Her chortle echoed off the wall despite how quietly she let it slip past her lips, and she disappeared from his sight within a moment.

"I am used to it…" he admitted to himself in the now empty hallway, "But that certainly does not mean I enjoy it."

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As the hours of the evening counted on into the colourful night, the party continued on without end. The various meads, ales, wines, and all other sorts of pleasantries were renewed and refilled all throughout the hall, the aromas abundant and heavy about the party goers. Volstagg the Voluminous, dear friend to Valr the Battle-Slain, sat in competition with the young Asgardian nearly a third of his size, the long table before them littered with empty steins and dirtied plates.

A challenge had been declared between the two nearly an hour earlier- that Valr could not hold her own against that of the largest of Asgardians in a drinking bout. But there Volstagg sat, his red beard covered in a thin froth and his eyes crossed, swaying to and fro in his seat. Valr sat beside him, just as worse off as he.

They both sat, a half filled stein in their hands, and gazed sickeningly into the amber liquid with nauseous disgust. On the edge of passing out then and there, Valr slammed her stein upon the wooden table and raised a mead covered hand in truce, her ginger brother-in-arms staring at it questioningly. Within a moment, his mouth agape for nearly so long a fly buzzed at its entrance, he, too, dropped his stein and clasped his hand firmly around hers. He shouted loudly, though slurred terribly, something indecipherable, before landing face first against the table with a resounding thud.

Those around them laughed heartily at the display, Fandral and Hogun, the other members of the Warriors Three, walking up to clasp the shoulders of Volstagg and Valr both in admiration. Thor, meanwhile, having watched the display whilst consumed in his own amusement, only chuckled at the group before returning to the lavish feast before him.

Across the room, secreted away in the dim shadow of the doorway stood Loki, glum and disinterested in the party itself, and far more taken with the small, hapless jests he played upon those unwary. Snakes in goblets, disappearing benches, unexpected winds that tempted the clothes of women and men alike, amongst the many other tricks he kept up his sleeve. All in good favour, of course, his tricks a means to lighten the party from the heavy honor Thor carried about his person. And yet, he watched carefully and with slight delight the scene between Valr and Volstagg, noticed the way the former now slumped on the table in a drunken stupor beside her inebriated friend.

His eyes rolled at the sight as a grin barely graced his thin lips. He was not assisting her home that evening, of that he was most sure.

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"Go away, Loki." Valr ordered as the sun shone through the open shutters of her window, the bright pain of a terrible hangover sitting at the front of her head. Loki sat at her window sill silently, and despite the promise he made to himself the night prior he assisted her home in her all-too-drunken swagger, through stumbles and incomprehensible ramblings.

Valr covered her head against the sun with her pillow and rolled onto her side gingerly so her back faced the gangly Odinson in her room. The floor creaked under his weight as Loki stepped across the room quietly, as one does when avoiding a bear or Volstagg and a piece of cake, before setting himself at the edge of the bed near her curled legs.

"Did I win?" Valr asked of him cryptically, but immediately he understood to what she had referenced.

"You declared a truce with Volstagg." He commented and proceeded to clasp his hands in his lap patiently.

"Pity truce." She corrected, and nudged him in the back with her foot. "I could have beaten him, fairly and all that. It was his belching, really. I'd gotten sick of it."

"You were not much better." Loki laughed and pulled the pillow from her head, an action that caused her to cringe painfully, "And you are far too proud for your own good."

A white wave covered her head as Valr pulled her sheets up and across her eyes, hidden away from the God of Mischief's sight. "Not nearly as proud as your brother. He gives Volstagg a run for the largest bust in Asgard when he puffs his chest out like that." Loki smiled briefly at the comment and stood from his seat to pull back her covers.

"True. I'll not dispute that. But you do share his stubbornness." Valr curled into herself before at last she admitted defeat. She turned about and stood on wobbling legs, the once vertical warrior's stripe atop her head slumped and knotted.

It was, in fact, a family tradition Loki noticed, the bizarre hairstyle amongst the Battle-Slain family- as was the family name. Her father, a guard in the All-Father's palace, had such a design, her mother, brother, and grandmother all similar in style. Her father's father, slain in battle, also carried with him the tradition, as did his wife, also slain, and so did their siblings- not spared from the terrible fate of battle. It was unique amongst them, identifiable from a distance, the family that strutted about proudly, their gaits wide and determined, shoulders back and heads held high despite what seemed to be a short gene.

Valr slapped at Loki's back until he neared the window, and all but pushed him out with the simple excuse that she needed to dress. "Enough ogling. Out." She told him and pushed against his back futilely as he stood still as stone at the sill. "You're like a stubborn horse. Out!"

"I told you not to bring up the horse aga—" He was stopped abruptly before he could scold her properly for her words, as she decided then to back away and shoulder him out the window without so much as a glance back.

oooooooo

Unfazed, Valr sat at the edge of the rainbow bridge and dangled her feet from the side without worry, without fear that the pacing Loki at her back would shove her off as she had done to him earlier that morning, and the day before. From edge to edge of the colour changing bridge he paced, slowly and deep in thought, glimpsing every so often to the all-seeing Gatekeeper, Heimdall, just within the nearby chamber.

A grin swept past Loki's gaunt features at the notice of the Gatekeeper, that stoic and powerful being loyal to the All-Father and none other, just out of Valr's sight. "Do you remember," He began, loud enough for Heimdall to take heed of his words, "…your like for old Heimdall as a child, Valr?" He pried, jested at the small crush she once held for the Keeper, trying to embarrass her within sight of the man in question.

Valr caught on quickly to his words and whisked her hand around in the air to dismiss him, "Of course. And I made it quite obvious!" She yelled, loud enough for Heimdall to hear.

Loki's head snapped in the direction of the Gatekeeper, who now appeared nearer the archway to his chamber, his mighty sword stationary at his armour-clad feet. The Odinson shifted uncomfortably at those golden-amber eyes that gazed without once blinking, and stepped up behind the young woman to prod his boot against the back of her lightweight cuirass. She looked back at him with an irritated glance over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a thin line.

Sensing an argument, Heimdall turned on his heel toward the dais in the centre of his chamber and tightened his hold at the leather grip wrapped about the handle of his sword, his stance suddenly tense and rigid. Meanwhile, Loki and Valr bickered outside at the prods of the Mischief-Maker moments before, one embarrassing reminder after another exchanged between the two.

Loki seemed to be winning, Valr's race reddened and flustered, her nostrils flared as she fussed at the elegant leather of his overcoat. He dragged out every moment, every secret she'd told him, and repeated it to her with the slightest hint of venom- through the grin on his face never wavered. "Why would you bring that up?" she whispered harshly, "No one has to know about that night with Fandral. I shouldn't have even told you!"

"You brought up the horse again." He said calmly, his hand wrapped about her wrist as she threw a single punch at him. "Sleipnir was a gift for Father, nothing more."

Loki laughed as her futile attempts to hit him carried on without end, her punches, he knew, all in good fun.

Heimdall, caught in his own world, lifted his sword cautiously against the electricity that now sat in the air, the tense static uncomfortable at his skin.

Valr and Loki shot up at the sound of tearing- a single punch making contact with his cheek as he was caught off guard- the noise that followed the opening of a portal, as though reality ripped open before them.

Trolls, all sizes and shapes, from the light skinned trolls of Vanaheim to the frost-ridden beings of Niflheim, and the creatures, fire-charged and alive with flame, of Muspelheim stood at the entrance of the Bifrost.

Heimdall, deadly and quick to react, downed several of the vermin before a few others managed past him and raced out into the open air of the bridge. Valr and Loki looked to each other with a hint of hesitation before they readied themselves fully, Valr's short sword drawn and Loki's hands alive with powerful magic.

Engaged in seconds, Valr felled two as they drew their swords against her, the bloodied weapon in her hand having been unused for nearly a week.

The exhilaration coursed through them as trolls fell around the pair easily- even the largely unarmed Loki a challenge against the foul humanoids. It was a dance they'd shared before, back to back, their attacks complimentary to one another.

A master of magic and sorcery, and purely all things illusionary, Loki dispatched the remainder of the trolls with ease. Skilled with her sword like any other member of her family, Valr swung about swiftly, her jabs and swings calculated.

She trotted about eagerly and excitedly similar to a lion at the bars of its cage. "There has to be more, Heimdall." She admitted, and looked to the calm god beside her for input.

Loki acknowledged her with a glance and a curt, one-sided grin. "Perhaps it was merely a small group, nothing more th—"

A shard of ice shot through the air, easily zooming past his head and missing by inches- only to be tracked to a freshly spawned frost troll at the Gatekeeper's side. Heimdall eliminated the threat with one swing and emerged from his chambers and out into the open. The gold of his armour, horned helm and all, gleamed in the orange haze of the evening, his gaze affixed to the All-Father's palace at the heart of Asgard. "Go." He stated simply, his sword still drawn at his side.

Flashes of light bloomed at several points in the city at his words, a swarm of the foul beasts emerging from each.

Valr looked to Loki with a hint of disdain in her narrowed eyes. "Seems I was mistaken." He admitted, and followed quickly behind the advancing warrior toward his home.

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Valr paused for a moment to collect herself once they stood in the main courtyard, her eyes roaming about the palace walls in a jerky fashion. "Go find Thor and the others. They're already fighting, knowing your brother."

The streets around them ran rampant with hundreds of trolls, a regular field of battle on the soil of Asgard. The air hung thick with the fog of war as the roofs of many a building lay covered in flame from the steps of the trolls of Muspelheim, others frozen from the exterior in by the icy grip of Niflheim. Loki looked to Valr with furrowed brows, but said nothing to express the disapproval of her idea. At that moment, he wanted nothing but to return to that morning, to any other day in which he could relax without war or strife.

He stepped back slowly, steadily, and prepared to turn about before Valr's words caught him. "You and me." She started, and pointed between them with the tip of her sword, "After this, we're having a drink. You're getting drunk tonight, not me."

And with that, the two disbanded with a shared laugh, Valr toward the centre of the palace, Loki to the surrounding courtyards.

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Valr scrambled about the slick floors of the palace's interior beside those she'd rallied to aid her, guards and battle seasoned commoners alike. The room reeked of the burnt husks of the fallen but sat chilled like the winds of winter by the frozen statuettes of a considerable number of guards, caught in their last ounces of life. Arms raised and weapons readied, they sat encased in a thick coat of ice, their countenances frozen in anger and fear.

The room lay clear of all threats once the group found themselves in the feasting hall, the open balcony stretched across the expanse of the far wall empty of the invading trolls. Valr took the lead and searched about the room cautiously, suspiciously, her hands coiled around the grip of her sword tightly.

"Somethin's not right." A heavily armoured guard behind her commented, his pole arm's spearhead aimed at the floor as he, too, roamed about.

But just as the words escaped his lips the room shook violently, the double doors leading within torn from their hinges by an outside force. Valr and her comrades backed away further toward the balcony as innumerable trolls stormed in, followed by a singular warbeast. The great and vicious creature hung low to enter the room through the space the doorway offered, the fur of its arms marred with aged scars and fresh wounds.

Over twenty feet tall, the warbeast trudged forward on four hooves before the gathered trolls, its face masked and shoulders and chest armoured, its two arms weighed down by dual, jagged swords. The warriors backed away, frightened by their new opponent and its reverberating steps, all caught in a well-placed trap.

'_And you are far too proud for your own good.' _Loki's words reminded Valr, and she regretted at that moment that they'd divided and "conquered".

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Thor, the Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three stood victorious amongst the broken bodies of a small army of trolls, largely unhurt and jovial from the suspenseful and surprising combat from moments before. Loki approached them quickly and looked around at the group with a curious eye, "Have you seen Valr?" He quipped, the tips of his fingers rubbing at his palms unconsciously. "Have you been inside as of yet?"

Thor tittered and placed a congratulatory pat on his brother's shoulder, rocking him on his feet so he wobbled precariously. "No, not yet, Loki." He added swiftly. "But do not doubt her. She craves battle nearly as much as I."

Thor pulled himself away from his brother and swung Mjolnir, his powerful hammer crafted by the Dwarves, around in a circle at his side.

"That's what I'm afraid of…" Loki replied and pushed past his headstrong sibling and into the palace, only to be followed close behind by Thor and the others.

From top to bottom they scoured the halls of any sign of Valr and the remaining Palace guards, but found not an ounce of their presence until, at last, they stood at the broken doorway to the feasting hall. The night before, the grand scope of the room was marvelous. Burdened with far too many people, and loud enough to be heard from the streets below, the hall was a sight to see. But before them was nothing of the sort.

Rubble lay strewn about, broken shards of the doors scattered across the scuffed and scarred floor. The room lay a mess, bodies littered about like discarded refuse, Asgardian and troll alike.

Loki walked into the room silently and avoided with each step the fragments of the broken long table and scattered weaponry, the large carcass of a fallen warbeast at the far side of the room an object most interesting. Thor, on the other hand, strutted about as proud as any victorious warrior and slung his hammer atop his shoulder, his cape billowed behind him- still a bright sanguine in the light of the hanging sconces despite the darkness of the evening outside.

Loki navigated about the warbeast cautiously and prodded at one of its hooves with his boot. It stank as much in death as it had in life, its fur matted and tangled, their armour on its chest and shoulders dinged heavily from battle.

Dead, of that he was confident, slain by the short sword embedded in its forehead. But as he neared the unmasked maw of the warbeast he saw alongside it a stilled figure, their armour largely crushed as though trampled, blackened by the dangerous beams that no doubt originated from the mouth of the warbeast. A short crop of hair stuck out from the top of their head- _recognizable from a distance. _

A warrior's stripe.

Instantly, Loki ran forward and pulled them onto their back, only to be faced with a grievous image.

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_ In a last ditch effort to slay the warbeast, Valr, her armour collapsed by the tremendous grip of the trolls' monster, plunged her sword deep into its forehead. Its body shuttered violently before it released its hold around her, shrieks caught in its throat as it swung about in the throes of death, its jaw slack and body ridden with spasms. _

_ Valr laid still on the floor, exhausted and breathless, the ribs under her armour broken inward. In those last moments, she struggled to breathe, her gasps like that of a fish out of water. _

_Her vision darkened slowly as the twilight outside gave way to the evening._

'_Looks like I'm not having that drink…'_

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Wordlessly, Loki touched at Valr's cheek with the most ginger of touches, his fingers trembling, fallen to his knees as his legs gave way beneath him. The sight before his eyes he refused to believe, refused to accept.

It was not until he cradled her against him did the reality of the situation sink in, the limp weight of her form still somewhat warm to the touch.

In the distance, Thor joked with Sif, Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg, his friends as boisterous as he. But Loki paid them no mind as he sat hidden away behind the enormous heft of the warbeast, unmoving and distanced. For several moments he remained unnoticed until finally Thor began his walk about the room, his steps heavy on the floor and his strut relaxed.

"Come now, Brother. Surely that beast does not require such careful inspection?" He laughed, and guided his friends to where Loki sat.

Sif was the first to stop at the sight, her hand raised to her mouth in an unheard gasp, the Warriors Three following suit almost immediately after. Volstagg's mouth sat agape, his hand coiled in the curls of his beard, Fandral and Hogun's heads lowered to avoid the sight.

A tension hung in the air as Thor sidestepped them with a grin, perplexed by their sudden halt. "Not you, too." He whined at the warriors, "There is nothing about this beast that…"

Thor grew deathly quiet at the sight of his brother on the floor, Valr's broken form caught tightly against his chest.

His smile drooped then with realization, his hand instinctively extended to loosely grasp his brother's hunched shoulder. Loki jumped at the sudden touch, believing perhaps Valr played an elaborate ruse, a hateful prank, upon him as he would her, but breathed in deeply when the blue eyes of his brother met his. "Loki…" he began softly, "Perhaps Father can help her. Bring her back."

Loki's throat grew taut and he struggled to raise his head in response. "No." he stated bluntly, with far more venom than he intended, "Such dark magic cannot…" he stopped himself as the words turned foul on his tongue, a heavy sigh let loose in exchange for the words he wished to express at such a ridiculous idea.

"I'm sorry." Thor told him, the others gathered close as though to comfort. "She died a warrior, as any of us would hope."

But his words fell to deaf ears as Loki sunk deep into the recesses of his mind, that dark corner, that widening crevasse in which all creatures hid when the world grew bleak around them. How he wished it was a simple trick, a prank against him as they'd done time and time again. But he knew all the better, and crawled away into that abysmal corner and sat.

In that corner he disregarded all else, all apologies and condolences, and shut himself away for a time. A time he did not measure.

A time he refused to acknowledge.

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**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**DISAPPEARED  
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_That's it for my first chapter. I already have chapter 2 completed, but I would love to hear what you thought about the first!_**_  
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	2. Disappeared

**Ignis and Ardor**

**Chapter 2: Disappeared**

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Across the coming days another celebration fell upon Asgard at their victory over the invading trolls, congratulating the will of all Asgardians against any and all threats that dare stand at their door. But some did not celebrate, did not cheer or cry out in elation, did not dance and feast merrily.

Loki sat unmoved from his bedchamber since the night of the attack as the family he knew outside grew worried for him. Not since the guards removed Valr from his grasp, long after her body had grown cold at his fingers, did he speak. His mind and form were weak from purposeful neglect, though his exterior showed no sign of distress.

Valr's father would be saddened but proud all the same at the knowledge his daughter would be claimed by the Valkyries and perhaps made into an Einherjar. But the thought was not enough to please the God of Mischief.

Surely, his feelings were selfish, his solitude all but so, but he grieved the only way he knew how, and sat solemnly within his chambers for a time and thought.

And thought.

And thought, until exhaustion claimed him.

His brother, Thor, called to him every morn and every evening in an attempt to draw him out from his self-induced solitude, his exile of sorts, and proved successful only on the morning of the cremation ceremony.

The fallen would be set ablaze in traditional pyre, sent out across the expanse before joining the swirling colours of the heavens at the edge of Asgard. Loki did not weep at the thought, did not wish against the idea that Valr would be sent away from him, from his brother, from Sif, from Volstagg and the others of the Warriors Three. Instead, he thought nothing of it, even as he dressed himself in his princely armour, antiqued and beautiful, the gold freshly polished and well taken care of.

He adorned his helmet atop his head, its precisely crafted curves and coiled horns once a joke shared with Valr, the truly Battle-Slain. She would call him a billy-goat when he stood above all others as though he graced his own personal mountain- his response aimed at the small fallen curl at the front of her warrior's stripe, reminding him of a meddlesome mother quail at times. She would cluck an insult of sorts at his remark; pull at his horns as he threatened to cut away the fallen curl of her hair- as they'd done since they were children.

Loki, at last, emerged from the recesses of his bedchamber clad in all he could muster, his brother waiting patiently for him outside. This day would prove long and tedious he feared, but perhaps it was for his own well-being, to be out and about once more instead of rooted to the spot.

Midway through that morning the ceremony commenced, those families of the fallen gathered together to await the voyage of their beloveds. Thor stood at his brother's side, equally clad in his heavy armour and crimson cape, and before them their father, the All Father, Odin. Gungnir, his enchanted spear, sat loosely in his hand as he watched on, as he always did with every similar occasion, his face largely blank but stance tall and defined despite his age.

The scene was surreal, time almost unmoving as the three waited for the ceremony to begin.

But down below, in the chamber in which the fallen resided a stocky and heavily framed guard stood. In the room of the dead, he the only living occupant, he watched over the bodies of his comrades, where the remains of his daughter lay. Arn Battle-Slain, father to Valr, stood vigilant over those destined by fate. The room was muggy and uncomfortable, the stench of the burned, those slain by the trolls of Muspelheim, all but lost to him. And yet he did not move, did not waiver in his diligent watch.

He was proud, to be sure, of his daughter to be taken by the Valkyries, but saddened all the same by her untimely death, and in such a fashion.

As he glanced around the room he grew wary, nervous even. The air had changed, morphed into something chill, as though winter arrived in mere seconds. He searched about and counted the bodies, fifty-two he knew in total, those faces he recognised, even that of his daughter. But as he glanced about he grew sick.

She was not there.

_Valr's body had disappeared. _

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Where was his daughter? Where was Valr?

Arn Battle-Slain all but ran from the room, and without a word to another arriving guard swept up the steps to where Odin and his sons stood. As he approached, his run slowed to a dignified walk and at last he stood before his King.

Immediately, he recognised Loki, that Princely Imp he cared nothing for despite his daughter's fondness for him. More than once he'd caught him in Valr's room, only to find them talking and nothing more. The boy was sharp, perhaps too much so for his own good, but did not mistreat Valr, did not attempt to take advantage of a young woman that could have easily called upon her entire family with a single battle cry.

But the God of Mischief looked distraught at Arn's arrival, at the look on the guard's face. Loki remembered the father, those eyes that spied upon his adult daughter when he believed them alone. Paranoid, as any responsible parent would be, but assuredly annoying.

"All Father! My king!" Arn began, and lowered the volume of his voice as Odin stepped away slightly from his sudden yell. He bowed at his intrusion before continuing. "My daughter? Mayhap, she was moved without my notice? She… she is not with the others." Valr's father grew almost frenzied at the disappearance of his daughter, but was broken by the single utterance of his King.

"She was not." Odin replied, and turned fully to face the dread written across Arn's worn features.

Interest piqued, Loki stepped forward to the side of his father, the first mention of Valr all he needed to be broken from the self-placed curse he inflicted upon himself. "Father…" he tried softly and as calmly as he could manage, his words muddled on his usually silver-tongue, "Call the Valkyries. Ask of them who they have already claimed."

Odin knew of the unease that swept through his son at that moment like the algid winds of Niflheim, and nodded at the idea. "Yes, of course. A simple misunderstanding."

Never before had the Valkyries done wrong against the All Father, neither lied nor deceived. For what reasons would they have now, Loki pondered.

This was not a '_simple misunderstanding_' as his father would call it, that sometimes-fool in his mind.

**00000**

From the farthest reaches of the heavens, broken through the thin veil of cloud cover, a single figure rode. Their tremendous and mighty steed galloped across the sky, the sound of thunder at its hooves with every step. Thor observed in awe at the solitary descending war maiden, the gleam of her spear seen glittering against the risen morning sun, her armour and mail ablaze in the revealing light.

Rumbles coursed under Loki's feet as the Valkyrie landed on Asgardian soil, every step felt as she strode forward toward her king. Around her ravens seemed to materialize from the very air, blinking into existence- but only partially as though a shade of their full selves. Power hovered about the Valkyrie as she came to a stop, her horse letting loose a single snort in the form of mist at its nostrils.

Without a sound, she stood above them from atop her mount, all other noises nullified at her presence. She demanded their attention without an utterance, called no command, and the sons of Odin heeded her dominance in silence.

Much shorter than the steed in front of him, Odin strode forward past the ravens gathered at his boots, straight to the side of the Valkyrie. "What would you have of me, All Father?" she asked as she regarded the figure at her knee, Odin's tired eye trained on her with admiration for his most honoured of warriors.

Was Valr to become one of their kind, an Einherjar? Thor thought dreamily, a widened smile across his rounded cheeks at the mental image. A true war maiden in wait of Ragnarok?

But he was broken from his reverie at the voice of his father, eerily quiet and yet heard all the same.

"I ask of you the name of a single warrior, and where about she may be." The Valkyrie scanned the All Father's face before the pole of her spear rested on the ground, waiting for him to continue. "I ask of Valr Battle-Slain, taken the night of the Trolls' attack. Have you recovered her soul, taken her body from the Hall of the Dead?"

The Valkyrie's steed shifted uncomfortably at the question and shook its head about as though to answer for its master, its pupil-less eyes open wide to peer at Loki and Thor with interest. From her satchel she pulled forth a scroll, the names of the recently deceased neatly scrawled therein, her face contorted as she scanned the names one by one. "We have not." She stated simply, "Neither her soul nor form we have taken. And upon my list she is not seen. The record of her death was unknown to us."

Odin's mouth sat ajar at her words, his one visible eye narrowed skeptically. "Nothing?" His grip tightened around Gungnir at that moment and he turned to his sons quickly.

"Away with you. Begone." He ordered the Valkyrie at his back, and with the pounding of hooves she vanished as she appeared, gone to the sky above.

Odin gathered his sons then, saw how Thor waited expectantly and Loki's eyes dart about in contemplation. But with a growl Loki turned from them and hurried away toward the bridge Bifrost, his gaze set intently to where he knew Heimdall stood at its end.

"Brother, where are you going?" Thor inquired and followed in Loki's footsteps, for once not the leader in their venture. Odin walked in tow at their heels as they continued in the shadow of the God of Mischief, uncomfortably quick and none too keen on Loki's current attitude.

His pallor looked off, far paler than normal given the light hue of his un-tanned skin. "If your all-seeing eye, Father, did not _see_ what happened…" Loki began, his words curt and jagged, filled with all too intentional malice at the assumed idiocy around him, "Then someone else did."

**00000**

The trio approached the tip of the rainbow bridge at the very edge of Asgard's sea, and residing within was Heimdall, poised upon his dais as always, every day and night, without sleep or rest. Odin was the first to enter but did not speak, but instead, waited for Loki to stomp forward toward the Gatekeeper. He stopped at the first step leading upward and looked out from under the brow of his helmet, those green orbs widened as the heart within his chest beat wildly.

"You have come to me expecting answers to your riddle." Heimdall started, and away from them he gazed, "But I have none."

Unsatisfied, Loki climbed the top step and stood at Heimdall's back, his hands clenched at his sides, his armour growing hot with anxiety. "She was hidden from me for a time as her body lay in waiting. I could neither see nor hear those around her, and yet," Heimdall shifted to stare at the far shorter Asgardian, scanned the horned helm of the Prince who hunched forward indignantly, "there was a presence, shadowed and not of this realm."

"And you chose to tell no one?" Loki spat, his head cocking spasmodically to one side like the very words scarred him.

"I could not abandon my duties as Gatekeeper." Heimdall's golden eyes looked to his king lazily, and to Thor who stood at his father's side. "And I was unaware my King was ignorant to the situation."

The thought was absurd, the God of Mischief seethed, that the two most perceptive beings on Asgard sat blind to the events around them, literally or otherwise.

His cape billowed behind him as he charged forth past his father and brother and away toward the palace, his anger palpable, his sadness far from so.

**00000**

Cracks sounded from the ribs that snapped back into place as Valr breathed in deeply the cold air around her. The feeling one got when forgetting to breathe hung in her chest, and for the first time since the night of the attack she opened her eyes.

She sat up, still very much in pain. Even with her crushed armour replaced it felt as though it dug into her, broken and stuck to her sides.

The frigid ground beneath her did nothing to return heat to her body, and she shivered even in the comforting warmth of her armour, her surroundings coming into focus at last.

"Niflheim." She choked out, her voice garbled from disuse.

"Correct." A voice answered, feminine and sultry, tearing at Valr's skin with its sharp tone. "My realm." It continued at Valr's struggle to stand, her muscles taut and unnatural to her in that moment of waking.

"Your…" she cleared her throat with a thick cough, "Your realm? Niflheim?" Valr managed her way onto her knees in exchange for standing tall, nausea caught at the back of her tongue as she threatened to topple over. "Hel!" she screamed as loud as her voice would allow, "Show yourself!"

Fire and ash convulsed and flew, collecting into the shape of a woman, her armour appearing as mere bumps and lines for colour, emerald and black, solidified on her person. Hel sat leisurely in the air, her legs crossed loosely and head relaxed against her palm in a beguiled stance. "Mind your tongue, Asgardian. You should be thanking me."

Valr managed her way onto her feet, largely unbalanced, but stood curled into herself in weariness, still fatigued from the unsleep death brought. Hel chuckled quietly at the sight, her inhuman eyes curled in a twisted smile, "Without my intervention, the trolls surely would have claimed you… Well, 'truly' claimed you. Them or the Valkyries- lesser of two evils. Consider it a gift."

"Why?" Valr asked, and clutched at her sword, placed with her after it had been plucked from the head of the Warbeast.

Hel shifted on her invisible perch and lay on her stomach, her hands coiled under her chin as she sat barely a foot from Valr's face. "I saw the way you two were." Her full lips pulled into a tight sneer, "That boring day-in, day-out, constant back and forth exchange. You and your little 'prince'." She finished with a growl.

With one hand she clutched at Valr's chin, her nails dug into her flesh painfully. "And I thought, 'why not make it more interesting?' That poor little Odinson saddened by the death of his 'friend' but torn truly apart by her disappearance?"

Hel smiled wickedly then, her teeth bared wolfishly. "Even now he breaks. What do you think will happen if he finds you alive in my little game of hide and seek?"

"He and Thor will take your head." Valr answered simply and swatted Hel the Half-Rotted's hand from her visage. "Or Odin himself will—"

A slap crossed Valr's cheek and cut shallow lines into her skin, Hel's face contorted with fury, "Do not test me, little Asgardian. I spared you from the Valkyries for but one reason, and one alone."

She relaxed and backed away, her arms extended in open invitation. Most sinister and conniving, Hel bargained with no one, and sought pleasure in the pain and misery of those around her- Valr her most recent targets of attack.

"They will find me, Hel. No matter what it is you have planned."

The ruler of the dead grew threatened at Valr's sharp words, grew increasingly irritated at the Asgardian's lack of fear in the very face of death itself, or herself given the circumstance.

With the snap of Hel's fingers, Valr found herself frozen to the spot. She lurched forward, her legs held in place, constrained by the hands that short forth from the ground. Familiar armour sat buckled still to the decayed skin and muscle beneath, detailed and intricate with knotted designs similar to that seen on Valr's own armour.

Rotted flesh clung to her boots and scraped with overgrown nails at her pants legs- the minions of Hel duty bound to their master. Hel laughed at the scene, overjoyed by the fear caressing every inch of Valr's features. Most amusing and diabolical her plan was- to twist and warp the very dear friend of one of Asgard's prized princes, break in twain two beings with one pull, one whisk of her hand.

From behind Valr a portal gave way, opened to an unknown realm, its dark reaches frighteningly bizarre. Cosmic mist swirled in and about the tear in the world, pulled in clouds of dust kicked up by Valr's thrashing legs.

"_IF _they find you!" Hel exclaimed, and with the snap of her fingers Valr was released, drawn toward the open portal.

Valr groped at the open air futilely as the portal drew her near. "No!" she yelled as she was pulled in by an unseen force, Niflheim disappearing from sight as the portal closed shut behind her.

**00000**

**Next Chapter:**

**The Tin Man**


	3. The Tin Man

_I just wanted to thank xXxDragonxPhoenixXx for your review. I appreciate anything and everything you guys have to say!**  
**_

**00000  
**

**Chapter 3: The Tin Man**

**00000  
**

Loki snapped up at the noise, the food laid before him cold. Realising at that moment he sat at the table across from his brother he sighed, and ran a hand down his face.

He had heard it, that voice he could recognise in any crowd, any party, and any battle. He heard Valr then, across whatever distance she may be, heard her voice as clear as day.

Thor looked to his brother skeptically from across the table, unsurprised he looked unkempt and disheveled. Since the Cremation Ceremony, which continued on even in their absence, Loki returned to his previous ways since before the death of his beloved friend. He walked about the palace and mingled, spoke to those who wished conversation, and stuck to his brother's side, but there was a certain tension in his step, his movements forced and words practised.

The usually handsome Prince of Pranks, God of all things Mischievous and Beguiling, looked haggard and weary, finally grown tired of all apologies thrown at him. Despite his brutality and battle and lack of tact in conversation, Thor understood his brother and said nothing more to console him, knowing well the anger that brewed in Loki's heart at the words- his sadness grown into a festering, bitter rage.

Each day, Loki returned to Heimdall for any word, any sign, any noise (if such a thing could be elicited from the mouth of the dead) - a squeal, a laugh, even a scream erupting from Valr's throat- but received nothing in reply. Both the Gatekeeper and the All Father were at a loss for answers, knew nothing of Valr after her disappearance, and sensed not an inkling of her presence through the nine realms. Surely they had not dismissed it, but Loki knew fully well they did not care nearly as much as he.

That sound, that scream across the realms. It was no memory relived in waking. No, she, Valr, was out across the plains somewhere.

Loki looked to his brother opposite him with a taut frown and stood from his seat in an instant, his palms pressed firmly into the wood table. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif stared at the silent prince with inquisitive glances, as they'd grown wary of Loki's bouts of frustration in the past few days.

"You know the old phrase, brother?" Thor questioned Loki as he turned to leave.

Loki turned slowly to acknowledge the question, his stance rigid as stone. "If you want something done, if you want something known, something or someone found…" Brows raised, Thor left the unfinished statement hang in the hair, heavy with the tension that hung over Loki's head.

Loki contemplated his words and spun once more to the door, exiting into the hall without a noise.

"_If you want something done right… do it yourself."_

**00000_  
_**

Sparks flew about here or there, the material in which they were encased broken and shattered under the weight of the fallen object- a fallen being. Cast out from that void of the realms- Helasheim, Muspelheim- dragged from the realm she dearly called home, Valr sat atop the broken object and waited.

The world spun, the images blurred as her eyes darted around her new, peculiar, and most unknown surroundings. The décor was bizarre and highly unorthodox compared to the curves and contours of Asgard, but Valr recognised the workings of another realm, knew she sat on soil not her own.

"Ahem. Uh, 'scuse me." A voice called from her left, clear as day through the haze that clouded Valr's eyes. She glanced over to the voice's origin and spied an odd shape, a blurb- a man, lounged lazily on a white leather couch, his feet seated on the coffee table in front of him. "Hope you've got insurance, kiddo." He continued.

Valr rolled from the pile of debris and onto the wood flooring where she remained bowed, curled into herself, fragments of glass scattered across the wood. After several minutes she gathered enough courage to gander up and seek out those who would speak with her, but still only saw the single man lounged on his couch.

"Don't get me wrong," He started dryly, and rubbed at the neatly trimmed goatee on his chin, the angular pattern quite exotic and charming on his tanned skin. "I've got an affinity for the, uh," he waved his hand about, searching for the right word, "Costume thing- lovely armour, by the way- and I know what it's like to fall through a ceiling or two. Trust me, I've done it."

He stood and straightened his shirt, revealing an odd circular light position on his chest, small fragments of blue and white seen through the black fabric. "It's just kind of annoying when it's not actually me doing it." The man stood barefoot at Valr's side, a glass of iced whiskey in his hand. "By the way, best way to turn a television off is not by landing on it."

"Where am I? What realm is this?" Valr asked and stood from the floor on uneasy legs, and settled to lean on what remained of a shelving unit under the television for support.

"Play a lot of Dungeons and Dragons?" he joked, and took a sip of his drink. "Alright. Let's try Earth."

Valr's head shot up, shocked at his words. "Midgard? I'm on Midgard?" she ran a shaking hand through her fallen warrior's stripe before studying the man, "Why did she send me here? Why did she…"

A loud toll like the ringing of a bell sung through the air, and Valr instinctively jumped at the unknown sound, drawing her short sword without warning. The man took a step back, his thick brows raised in surprise and glass held high to show his hands. "Woah, kid! Doorbell." He extended a hand to lower the sword held firmly in Valr's grasp. "Cute sword. What is it? Foam?"

He hissed and drew back as his finger slid across the sharpened metal, the finest Asgardian craftsmanship- a small line of blood now visible. "Definitely not foam. Okay. You." He pointed. "Stay here. Better yet." He handed her his glass, its contents chilly against her hands, "Drink that. Calm your ass down a little bit."

Alone again, Valr looked up through the hole in the roof- she dropped through several floors to where she now stood- to an unknown sky, a sea of blue and white, the sun having just barely risen an hour before. "Strange time to drink." She thought aloud, and laughed for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Just like home. He'd enjoy Thor's company, no doubt."

**00000**

How would he explain the mess in his living room, or the strange woman left standing without an idea as to where she was? Parties were easy to explain, loud music, alcohol, and far too many people an easy excuse, a nice escape. But this?

Across the home the man walked hastily, opening the door with a little more force that he meant. "Uh, yeah?" he asked, but relaxed at the visitor on his doorstep, his eyes rolling with the flutter of his lids. "Coulson. Didn't think you'd pop by this early. Don't you have cats in trees to save or something?"

Middle aged, his hair line receding somewhat, surely not unattractive by any means, Coulson- Agent Coulson- laughed at Tony Stark's taste in humour and allowed himself inside his home. "Cute, Stark. S.H.I.E.L.D. works best with surprises."

"More like annoyances." Tony whispered and shut the door behind the Agent with a firm slam.

"You're bleeding." Agent Coulson stated simply, and sidestepped several blood drops on the floor.

"Right. Right. Actually, hold on." And with that, Tony Stark disappeared into the adjoining room.

The room was decorative and unique, the style unlike anything Valr had seen before. Metalwork was common on Asgard but the statues, the structures around her were fascinating. Frozen images in frames, captured moments in life in full colour- Valr could barely comprehend such technology.

An empty glass in her hand, Valr gazed out through the wide window on the far wall, stared out to the fascinating expanse beyond. Buildings, one huddled on top of the other, were as far as the eye could see, spreading out onto the horizon and on, a million shimmers of light on panes of glass. "I wish Loki, Thor, Volstagg- any of them- could see this…" she admitted solemnly and set her glass down on a table at her side, her brows knitted. "All of them. I wish they could all see it." She rested her head against the clear glass and gazed quietly, "I want to go home."

"What you've got to do now, kid, is hide." Tony interrupted as he entered the room, breaking the visions that threatened to flood Valr's mind.

"Hide? From what?"

With a hand on her shoulder, Tony spun her around and led her away, "Um… G-Man. Bogeyman. Whatever. Use your imagination. You seem to be good at that." Into a small closet he pushed her, closing the door firmly in her face as coats cushioned her against the door.

"Bogeyman? Is that like a troll?" Valr asked, but did not hear his answer as she was shut away inside.

"In a manner of speaking." Tony answered to himself, and wiped what remained of the blood on his finger onto his shirt.

Valr's armour pinched painfully in the confines of the closet, but she remained quiet, pushed against quite a few finely tailored coats and jackets that smelt heavily of moth balls.

**00000**

Tony led Coulson further into his apartment, a small black case held firmly under the agent's arm. "So what _did_ bring you by today, Agent?" Tony asked of the S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, his calm a ruse he'd mastered over the years, learnt well how to sound confident when the tide stood against him.

"Paperwork. Agreements. Some things I wanted you to look over." Passing him the black case Tony flipped it about, sliding the two pieces apart and positioning them together in a far different shape than before. The clear glass, as it looked, illuminated and revealed sliders of text and blocks of images.

"Again with the Avengers Initiative?" Tony asked, and scanned through the walls of text with ease, read and reread entire paragraphs in a manner of seconds. "You guys denied me before. Why now?"

"We denied _you_, yes." Coulson agreed, "Iron Man, no. But Director Fury thought, maybe, he'd give you a chance. _A _chance- as in singular."

"Got it." Tony snapped quickly and paced around the plush carpet in a small bowl in the flooring, Coulson seated on the couch the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist sat on moments before without worry, before his ceiling gave way to a television destroying young woman.

The agent inspected the living room with untainted curiosity, from the fresh hole in the ceiling, to the destroyed television and hutch beneath it. "Testing a new suit? Or another party?" he questioned as Tony continued to read, "Or both?"

"Uh… both. Both."

"Sir?" a synthesized voice asked from an unknown source in the room.

Tony sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples, "Yes, JARVIS?" he groaned, and wished he hadn't handed the rest of his drink to the strange woman he hid away in his closet.

"Shall I make a drink for your guest?"

"Coulson doesn't need a drink, no." Tony piped, and sat cross legged on the couch, far from the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"And your other guest? Shall I make—"

"Shut up, JARVIS." He snapped, and covered his tightly closed eyes with his hand.

"_Other_ guest?" Coulson inquired and glanced around the room skeptically.

"Glitch in the system, Coulson. Don't worry about it."

**00000**

"Yes, Prince Loki?" Heimdall asked, grown weary of the God of Mischief's daily visits, though he would never dare mention it.

"Open the Bifrost. I have an… _appointment_ to keep." Heimdall scanned Loki with nothing short of skepticism, the God fully armoured head to toe, his cape coiled around his arms like a shroud.

Echoing off the chamber walls, Heimdall's steps were heavy against the metal grating of his dais, "In my failing, you wish to seek out the dead yourself. Where will you go?"

"Wherever I must. As simple as that. But if Valr was not taken to Valhalla, I have but an inkling as to where she may have gone."

"And you choose to go alone?" A simple question, but it rang true within Loki, his eyes darting to the floor for a fraction of a second before landing once more on the Gatekeeper.

"I do not seek revenge, Heimdall. That is a trait, _thankfully_, my brother and I do not share. I merely wish to see Valr's return, if only her body, to Asgard. Surely, that does not require a small army?"

There was understanding in Heimdall's golden eyes, and he beckoned Loki out toward the edge of the chamber to await departure. "Where shall I send you?" he asked simply, his voice a deep monotone.

"To Niflheim. Land of the Dead."

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**TO PROVE ONESELF**


	4. To Prove Oneself

**Ignis and Ardor**

**Chapter 4: To Prove Oneself**

**00000  
**

The confines of the closet grew stagnant around Valr as an hour easily slipped into two, and yet the two men outside her small enclosure continued to converse. The sound of another television over the bar mingled with their words, making their conversation difficult to follow. She grew terribly bored and slipped in and out from a light sleep through the hours, her bottom fixed to the floor and head leaned against the door, Stark's curt banter- as she came to find out his name- amusing and backhandedly insulting all the same.

"I'll get you a plane to Portland for the weekend, Phil." Tony offered, swirling another of his drinks around lazily.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent forced a nervous laugh as he watched the television, breaking news crawling across the bottom of the screen at a snail's pace. "Don't worry about it. Things are a little… tense between us right now." Coulson admitted, having caved in to the offer of a drink regardless the time of day- somewhat unprofessionally.

"All the more reason to go, lover-boy."

"Nice city, as always. Seems your friends are running around again." Agent Coulson pointed to the television when Tony gave him a perplexed look, only to sigh at the news crawl.

"I can't get a day off, can I?" he joked, and walked out from behind the bar counter. "JARVIS, let's get goin'. I've got a meeting at one this afternoon and I'm already behind schedule."

"Right away, sir." The artificial intelligence complied and opened the glass door leading out to a curved balcony positioned away from another, lower portion.

Valr snapped to attention at his words, and sat up in front of the door. Something had gone wrong on Midgard, dared harm the humans and their home, and by her warrior's oath, her rites as an Asgardian, she would not deny the call of battle.

As Tony stepped out onto the balcony a mechanized ring shot from the floor and encircled him. Piece by piece, armour encased his body as he walked steadily toward the edge, his frame stronger and taller with each step, more powerful than the last as he was soon fully covered in the red and gold armour for which he was known worldwide.

Valr peered out from the open closet at the sight and grinned. These mortals, these Midgardians, were fascinating, their technology all the more so. But the danger beckoned her, drew her forth from hiding. She flew from the closet and up the stairs as Tony prepared to dive off, to fly out onto the expanse to face whatever threatened the city.

Agent Coulson was quick to react and drew his gun out of shock. "Hey!" he tried, but received no reply from the sprinting Asgardian, "Wait just a minute! Ma'am!" But Coulson was too late to stop her as she ran out the door and after Tony, jumping bravely from the balcony and onto his back as he lifted off into the air.

"Holy shit, kid! What are you doing?" he exclaimed, shocked by the added weight on his back as he hovered hundreds of feet above the city.

"I want to repay you for destroying your… your box, and damaging your home! And I'm sworn to help those in need, so there's that, too." Valr yelled over the roar of Tony's repulsors.

His face covered by a full helmet and mask, his illuminated eyes cast a glance over his shoulder, the annoyance underneath hidden from her. "I can buy televisions by the millions, kid- I'm not worried about that! Hell, that hole in the ceiling was bound to happen eventually. But I didn't want to have to explain to Coulson, there," he pointed to the large window where the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stood in surprise, "why there's a fully armoured woman in my penthouse, much less one that fell through three stories without so much as a scratch on her."

"I'll explain to him, then. But, please, let me help you. I want to repay you somehow."

Tony growled quietly, but bowed his head in defeat. "Fine. But know I'm not babysitting you."

Valr clung tightly to Tony's neck as he flew quickly away across the city, careful to avoid the small repulsors on his back. The experience of flight was exhilarating no matter how many times he did it, for leisure or otherwise, he always found a way to enjoy the sensation.

Agent Coulson looked out from the penthouse window and raised a cell phone to his ear without blinking, "Sir, we've got a situation."

**00000**

Frost licked and twirled around Loki's boots as he tread cautiously through Niflheim, the bluish hue and constant thunder and lightning in the sky flashing against his armour. To be alone in such a realm invited danger, either that of the trolls- rats of the nine realms, he thought of them- or the frost Jotun, the giants of cold and ice that would ultimately be destroyed by their brethren in Muspelheim at Ragnarok.

But Loki continued on without fear in his heart or tension in his step, his only anxiety concerning the dead that roamed the lands under Hel's rule, fearful he would see Valr amongst their ranks. The God of Mischief walked on, no confrontation before him though he remained ever wary, until he stood at a strange, free standing stone structure surrounded by suspended stones, frozen and alive with dark energy.

And there Hel sat, her face a mask of anger at the sight of Loki, that brash, silver tongued Asgardian.

"What do you want?" she hissed from her perch, her legs and arms crossed tightly and lips pulled into a frown.

"I come looking for answers, you half-rotted cur." Loki sneered.

But Hel was all too amused at his words, impressed by his lack of carefulness, "What makes you think I have the answers you seek? I do not meddle in the affairs of the living, nor do I wish to, so mind your tongue." Loki laughed under his breath, his head bowed as he stood tall to confront the aptly named Queen of the Dead.

Dark forces gathered around him at her silent beckon, the ground quaking with activity. "Oh, but this is not a concern of the living, Hel. Far from such. Valr was very much dead when she was taken, and I have no doubt you had a hand in such affairs."

Hel's mask of confidence shattered then, and she stood to confront the bold prince. "And what do I care what happened to your toy? Your sometimes obsession, sometimes desire?" she mocked him, spat at his boots with disgust.

The words were degrading, they were wrong, and most importantly… _they stung_. Valr, his most dear friend, could not stand for herself against such insult, but for Hel to stoop so low as to harm him with words that cut and curses that tore, the God of Mischief would not stand idly by and allow such derision.

A scream erupted from Hel as she was thrown to the ground, ice weighed on her armour and skin, pinning her under the Master of Magic's power. She swore aloud and cursed his name, but Loki remained unfazed at her attempts to break free of his hold. "Perhaps we should try this again? From the beginning?" he seethed, his voice like ice, jagged and cold like a tundra. "Where is Valr Battle-Slain?"

Hel gazed up with pure, unmitigated rage as she lay pinned and helpless, though felt the call of her dead beneath her. "Fine." She spat, the game long since grown boring to her. She needed a new pawn in her game, a new cog in her machine, "Your little 'friend', the girl. I brought her here, stole her. And believe me, she's quite alive... sadly. You should thank me for bringing her back, at the very least."

Loki stared down with distaste at the 'woman' held firmly on the ground, and clenched and loosened his fists at her words. "Where is she now?" he questioned, the ice on Hel growing thicker and more heavy by the second at his whim.

"Midgard. Where, exactly, I do not know. But there you will find her."

Loki breathed deep at her words, his mouth agape to calm himself.

Valr was alive! On Midgard, no less. Yet still hidden from his Father and the gaze of Heimdall.

"What had you planned? Why did you send her there?"

Hel laughed heartily at his words, enjoying the god's ignorance. "Oh, but that would spoil the fun! I'll not have you ruin my game, no matter what method you try to use against me. You'll have to wait and see."

Loki released Hel from her binds and stepped back to put distance between them, her anger felt like flame through his armour. "You have what you need, Odinson. Leave now whilst my patience still stands."

The God of Mischief glared as lines of the dead rose from the ground, a veritable wall, an army set betwixt them. He could not hope to match their numbers with his magic and trickery alone, and relinquished his hold on the situation. "Heimdall!" he called to the heavens, and waited.

A plume of light appeared moments later, a beam of energy shot forth to engulf him, and within seconds he was gone to Asgard, far from Niflheim.

**00000**

Loki strode from the Bifrost without a word and away toward the palace, a deep sadness lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't the chance to bid Valr goodbye, to cradle her in her final moments, give her hope when there was none. But now there was a chance to bring her home, return things to how they were, when they were simpler.

He knew not where to find her on Midgard, but he would be damned to give up so easily.

**00000**

The experience of flying was one Valr only felt a few rare times. Thor would kneel and take her on his back, launching into the air with Mjolnir in hand. Asgard was beautiful from the sky, a city of glimmering bronze and gold, ancient and magical made all the better from above.

Thor was a master at flying, practised and trained. Valr watched him amazed as he shot through enemies with such incredible speed and force, fast as lightning and as loud and powerful as thunder. Loki, similarly, had flown before, tested and meddled with his mastery of all things magical, but could not achieve the skill with which his brother flew.

Valr would laugh as Loki's concentration shattered, sending him falling to the ground in a heap, laid on his back like an overturned turtle. The breath knocked from his lungs, she would hoist him up and brush off his shoulders, urging him to stay put on the ground. "You should wear that helmet when you fly, Loki." She would tell him, "I'm not dragging you home if you knock yourself out- no matter how many times you've done it for me." He would slap at her hands as she poked him in the ribs, always a joke to her how thin and frail he looked in his younger years.

"What's your name?" Tony asked over the roar of the wind, "I can't just call you 'kid'. Especially since Coulson saw you, jumping off the balcony like a damned crazy person."

"Valr Battle-Slain of Asgard. Your name's Tony, right?"

"Tony Stark. I take it you haven't heard of me." He began to descend, his speed lessening with his decline.

"Sorry, no. I don't know a thing about Midgard."

Tony shook his head at her words and chuckled, "You're a weird one, I'll give you that. Just know you're going to be put on the spot when we get back. I bet Fury will love your jokes just as much as he loves mine."

"Fury? Is he a king or something? A god?"

Tony laughed even louder, "He might as well be!"

Tony landed firmly on the ground and allowed Valr to slide from his back. "JARVIS, update."

Valr took in Tony's armour then and compared it to her own. The plates on his arms and chest slid under one another, moved fluidly, whilst her armour encumbered and limited her movement, her pauldrons larger and more prominent than that of his own. The light once hidden under his shirt now illuminated his chest plate, beautifully luminescent, where as her armour was engraved and embossed with traditional knots and designs.

"Ahead, sir, approximately twenty-three yards."

Before one of Stark's many offices scattered through the city, all about the block, stood several men, all unassuming and unmasked, but armed and considerably dangerous to those around them. Tony laughed at the sight and pivoted his leg, his irritation felt by the young woman beside him. She said nothing as he sighed, forced to explain to her the situation.

"Third time this week. These guys are getting pretty unoriginal." He drawled and lifted the mask of his helmet, his eyes set on Valr.

"What are they after?" she asked curiously, her hand on the sword at her hip- one she hoped she would not have to use against their opponents.

Tony pursed his lips and rotated his shoulders, doing a small jump afterwards as though to prepare himself. "Don't know. Don't care. But no one takes my stuff. Come on."

His suit whirred to life and in a flash he was off like a bullet through the air, closing the gap between him and the would-be intruders in a matter of seconds. At first, Valr stood motionless and took in the buildings around her the monstrously massive and terribly tall scrapers, the thousands of reflective windows shining brightly in the midday sun. Denizens of the city stopped and gazed at the spectacle that was the renowned Tony Stark- the Iron Man- in all his glory, but cautious of the armour clad woman in the centre of the street.

Valr ran forward into the fray, Tony already having dispatched quite a few of the men without difficulty. With the pommel of her sword she knocked out a single intruder and two more by kicking them toward Tony. If she did not wish to kill them she would certainly find a way to make them wish she had.

"Kid, look out!" Tony yelled as Valr's back was turned, too busy a few others to aid her in time. She spun around, sword drawn and readied, and thrust it forward out of fright. She closed her eyes to the sight, the weight that pulled her sword downward, and only dared to peek upon realising she'd ended him. Her fallen opponent lay on the ground, still and quite dead, but what shocked her most was the blood.

Violet and viscous, the blood pooled at her boots and caked her sword in a disgusting goop. This was no human, whose blood ran sanguine- this was something different, something strange, something… alien.

Valr kicked the body away from her and scarpered off toward Tony, anything to put the image of the inhuman being from her mind. But Tony stood face to face with another adversary, his hands up in front of him and palms ablaze with a powerful light. The man drew forth a bizarre device, a most sinister silver shining in the sun.

Valr looked at the hand-held… she wasn't sure what to call it, with suspicion, but jumped, startled as Tony stepped in front of her. An ear-shattering noise filled the air, a round from the gun ricocheting off his chest plate and into the concrete. Angered at the attack, he sent out a single blast from his repulsors and hit the man square in the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground on his back.

An inhuman yell garbled in his throat as he convulsed, the skin beneath his hand a sickly pale—most certainly not human, Valr concluded. But the others remaining took heed to Tony's attack and scattered every which way, into the alleys and even up the sides of buildings with unnatural agility.

"Well… that ain't something you see every day." Tony joked, and strode forward with Valr at his side, toward the now motionless man on the ground.

"What was that thing he used? That loud noise?" Valr questioned, intrigued by the strange weaponry found on Midgard.

"Really, kid… Valr?" he corrected himself. "A gun? They don't have those where _'you're from'_?"

"Not on Asgard, no. I've seen beam weapons, kind of like what the Destroyer has, but nothing like that."

Tony lifted his face plate and ran a hand down his neatly trimmed goatee, unprepared for what he saw next.

What lay at their feet was far from human, and most definitely something Tony had never encountered. Its visage was contorted and bug-like, its small, sunken eyes opened forever as its body refused to breathe. "What the hell is this thing?" he snorted, kicking it in the shoulder with his boot, the same purple blood stuck to his armour just as it clung to Valr's sword.

"I know." Valr started and stared down wide-eyed to the creature at their feet. Tony eyed her skeptically, his mouth twitching and eyes wide. "I've only heard stories the Alfdaur- the All Father- has told us, but I know_ what_ it is."

"Well?" Tony asked, sick of the suspense.

"It's a Chitauri."

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER**

**UNHEARD**


	5. Unheard

**Ignis and Ardor**

**Chapter 5: Unheard**

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The lights were bright, painfully so, and even then Valr sat patiently in her chair. Not long after her escape from her miniature prison, the closet, and battle, she was collected by Agent Coulson, as well as the bodies of numerous Chitauri. The incident was to be covered up; she was told by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent once seated in a secure, undisclosed location, one unknown even to her newest acquaintance, Tony Stark.

The man, the billionaire, the genius, the… alcoholic, was nice enough to her, if somewhat dry in humour. But his pat against her back was reassuring when she was led away by Agent Coulson, a short thumbs-up from the Iron Man all she could see. A small token to help calm her.

Valr would have to thank him for his generosity when she got out, got out of where she wasn't quite sure.

Agent Coulson sat across from her, his hands seated in his lap, and a small blue, blinking light in a black box on his ear emitting hushed voices only he heard. "I'm to understand you fell through Mr. Stark's roof. Three floors." He began, his face revealing not an ounce of humour, but void of anger and mockery. He was lucid, calm, and quite relaxed. He had been in this situation countless times, interrogations and whatnot, and Valr was nothing new to him.

Coulson had seen far stranger- and stronger- things.

Valr appeared uncomfortable to him, seated in her metal chair in an unfamiliar and unfurnished room, the walls a dark gray and the lighting above brighter than the sun outside a few hours before- if such a feat were possible. Clad in what he considered to be Germanic or Norse-like armour, she was jittery without her sword at her hip- the blade currently kept safe away in another room. It was a far-cry from the gun Coulson carried on his belt, under his arm, and in his sock. One could never be truly prepared, he told himself, and thought of the syringe readied in his coat pocket should their meeting go awry.

She was largely unintimidating, not meek by any means, but did not scream "warrior" as she proclaimed. "And you were hiding away in a closet, the entire time I was there? You did a number on his television, if I remember right." Coulson leaned back in his chair, his arm thrown over the back and his legs crossed, his visible socks an amusing, and not standard issue, red, white, and blue plaid.

"Tony hid me there." Valr confessed, "Before you showed up. I'd… fallen."

"Where from?"

"Niflheim. Helasheim. But I do not know why she sent me here, but I do know she had _something_ to do with the trolls that killed me in Asgard. I know it." Valr bent forward and rested her elbows on her knees, taking a deep breath.

"You died?" Coulson echoed, his brows raised.

"I did, yes." Valr replied in all seriousness, not understanding the confused look on the agent's face.

Coulson peered at her, one eye narrowed skeptically. "And yet you're sitting right here? **Alive**?"

Valr's mouth sat agape, unable to find the proper words with which to explain herself. "Yes… Warriors, soldiers, they come back from the dead where I'm from, with considerable frequency. Surely, here, there have been warriors, soldiers even, who have returned home after being thought dead?"

Agent Coulson adverted his gaze to the floor and tried his hardest to hide a small grin that found its way to his cheeks. The soldier that returned, the man time forgot, frozen away in an arctic limbo for nearly seventy years, renewed and revived, a true hero, warrior, and soldier to the S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.

Coulson could only nod his head in what Valr knew to be understanding and stood from his seat. "One moment." He announced simply and walked from the room, others, she knew, waiting behind veiled glass, their eyes and cameras aimed on her.

Loki would know how to talk his way out of this, Valr thought, and picked at the stitching of her pants. The God of Mischief could talk his way out of almost any situation, and only resorted to combat should the need, or his anger, arise. His magic was a sight to behold, but his words were his true weapon, a blade he'd sharpened, honed, and trained with all his life, and yet rarely did he use his mastery against her. If he were there, she pondered and ran her hands down her face, he'd know what to say, know what to do… and hopefully not fret by her living appearance.

The door opposite her opened, but it was not Coulson who returned. Rather, a much larger, far more intimidating man stepped forth. Clad in a trench coat a deepest black, one of his eyes covered by a patch, he did not carry the same kindness in his eyes Coulson did. Valr thought of Heimdall when she gazed upon him, how he stood tall and proud, his hands held behind his back and chest pushed out.

Valr did not speak as he took the seat across from her, his posture similar to hers when he sat- it was more comforting, more… _human_.

"Coulson tells me you've had quite the experience." He began, his voice deep and demanding, but not at all harsh. "If I didn't have this job, I would have called you crazy. But we've all seen our share of **weird**." He cleared his throat and rummaged through the inside of his coat. A small piece of paper returned in his hand, and he read its contents aloud. "We've already taken care of the incident with Stark. But he did mention you called the… _creatures_ by name. Care to elaborate?"

"The Chitauri." Valr clarified, and furrowed her brows together. "They're from a world not your own- not my own, even. **Shapeshifters**. I suppose they took on the form of humans to hide themselves."

"And how do I know you aren't one?" As expected, Valr balked at the question and shifted nervously in her seat. "Not that I'm accusing you- that's what blood tests are for. But back to what happened – do you know what they targeted Stark's office, by chance?" he added, and stared at her intently.

"Perhaps he has something they want? A power source? A-A weapon? I wouldn't know." Valr sighed and allowed her face to fall into her hands. "But I can prove to you what I say about myself is true. Let me call Heimdall—he'll answer no matter what realm I'm in…" she drew in her lips and glanced at the floor, "Please…"

The man looked away in contemplation and stood with no word or answer. Valr was prepared to call to him, to beg him to let her call upon Heimdall, but he turned from the door to peer at her. "You've got your chance. _Prove it_."

**00000**

Valr couldn't believe her luck. She was led, her wrists cuffed in front of her, through narrow corridors and winding passageways. A stone—a concrete, the man corrected—labyrinth. This way and that people walked or ran; all clad in common attire, some in lab coats and other in full uniform. They addressed them as they passed, "Director Fury." They would say as he led Valr up through the complex with Coulson in tow. The other agent followed at her back, silent but his presence felt.

So this was Fury. The "king" or "god" from what Valr gleaned from Tony, and surely he earned the title. His presence demanded attention from all around them, not from fear or hate, but respect, and Valr could see why. He gave her the chance to prove herself even in the face of adversity and doubt, the idea she could call upon a mythical Gatekeeper across the realms absurd to many.

**00000**

The night sky was ablaze with stars, but hidden under the powerful lights surrounding the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex, satellites as far as the eye could see, and strange contraption resembling metallic dragonflies all around them. "Helicopters" Coulson clarified when she asked what they were, but said no more on the matter.

Fury led her out into the open, away from the prying eyes of other agents, and sent her forward away from him and Coulson. She would show them, reveal to them the magic, the power Heimdall possessed, and be allowed home, back to Asgard. To Thor, humourous brother and brute. To Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and Sif, proud warrior friends. To the All Father and her own father. And most importantly, to the friend she owed a drink, that devious and cunning trickster, and her most dear _friend_, cherished and beloved Loki.

Valr peeked back at the pair who stood patiently, quietly, and nodded. She craned her neck and looked into the gray of the washed out sky, her hands clenched at her tabard. "Heimdall!" she yelled loudly, her lungs emptied from the force with which she threw her voice. And then she waited for a sign, any sign she'd been heard.

She had been killed. Taken from her place of resting. Brought back by the twisted magic of Hel for reasons unknown. And now she could return home.

Valr waited, the smirk on her face wide.

But it soon fell, faded as there was no reply to her summons. She bit her lip and once again chanced a look back at the Agent and Director who remained where they stood. "Heimd—" she stopped and collected herself. "Heimdall! O-Open the Bifrost! Heimdall!"

What seemed like an eternity passed, but still Valr received no answer.

Defeated, her energy suddenly drained and hopes dashed, Valr fell to her knees and shuddered, her head bowed to hide the sadness that scarred her face, her eyes burning with rising tears. Coulson and Fury watched her fall and curl into herself on her knees, lost and alone.

Coulson approached her moments later, and without a word he sat on one knee and placed an arm across her shoulders, holding tightly. "He didn't answer." Valr whispered, the chains of her cuffs rattling as she moved to wipe a tear that slid down her nose. "Heimdall didn't…"

Coulson patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and watched the sky. "I know…" he uttered quietly. A long pause followed, his throat tight. "I know."

**00000**

Loki strode down the long expanse of the throne room, his steps wide and hurried. "Father!" he began, his voice shrill over the quiet hum surrounding Odin's throne. At his feet sat two dogs, larger than any normal hound, their hair wild and faces majestic. Wolves, Loki knew. Geri and Freki. And, oh, how he loathed them. They bit, snarled, and snapped at his approach, as though his existence around them bid foul omen, word of ill, and trickery.

He glowered at the two alert wolves before continuing. But before another word passed his lips, Odin spoke. "You have returned from Niflheim." He stated the obvious. If he could, no doubt the prince would roll his eyes, his words left to waste away on his tongue.

"Yes, Father." Loki finally managed, his tone sharp. "I've returned from Hel. It was she who took Valr!" Odin watched as his son paced, his steps feverish. "She's alive, Father. On Midgard." Loki stopped and glimpsed into the All Father's remaining eye, "Let me retrieve her. Perhaps she knows as to why Hel sent her away. Father, if I may—"

"No." Odin interjected.

Loki's mouth hung open, his eyes wide in disbelief. "**Why?**" he murmured, confused.

"Long since it has been since we have traveled to Midgard. Our kind has become nothing but stories, myths amongst the humans." Odin pet at Geri's head, his eyes never meeting his son. "By opening the Bifrost to such a realm will only invite question, possibly attack against that which the Midgardians do not comprehend."

Loki breathed deep and swallowed hard the lump in his throat. "I still do not see Valr, alive or dead, throughout any and all space. Have you accepted the words of Hel without thought? At the very first hope she placed in your heart?" The prince looked away. He hadn't thought, hadn't imagined Hel lied to him, fooled him with a cruel ruse. The God of Mischief and Deceit! Mocked and pulled along!

Loki backed away, bowed forward in respect. "I am sorry, my son." Odin apologized as Loki hurried away, distraught.

But he did not heed his Father's words and set out from the throne room swiftly, his steps echoes on the walls. "No, Father. You're not."

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER**

**SANCTUM SANCTORUM **


	6. Sanctum Sanctorum

_I really appreciate the feedback I've gotten on DeviantART! I know the reviews aren't on here, but hey, they're somewhere. Haha. If you want to check it out there, too, my DA is ESUERC.  
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**Chapter 6: Sanctum Sanctorum**

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From within their cage, two ravens gazed out with marble-like eyes to the green and gold clad prince who stood waiting. Hugin and Munin, all seeing ravens of the Allfather himself, trusted eyes and ears of Odin when he sat away from his throne, his literal seat of power, (for all who sat upon the throne of the Alfdaur could see any and all of the nine realms) watched Loki contemplate their bars.

He was furious, enraged his father- surely a king above all else! - dared deny him his most humble request. Odin knew how Loki felt for Valr deep down, that longing created when having known one for so long, frighteningly more than a friendship. But Loki shook the thought from his head and opened with an unoiled squeak the ravens' cage door.

Hugin was first to jump upon Loki's outstretched arm and peck at the polished metal of his vembrace, followed by Munin, their weight immense and nearly intolerable, but the God of Mischief ignored the growing ache. He grew anxious at the thought of deliberately disobeying his father, but he had to know if what Hel said was true, if Valr truly resided on Midgard.

It would not be the first time he went against the word of Odin, King of Asgard, his own Father, and it would certainly not be his last- and oftentimes Loki took pride in such feats, smirked behind the backs of those ignorant around him.

If he could not open a portal through the Bridge Bifrost, then he would resort to far more secretive measures.

**His specialty.**

The throne room was surprisingly quiet with the exception of the squawks from the twin ravens, their ebon feathers ruffled from having been taken by one other than the Allfather. But the ravens would obey, heed the words of Loki and take flight into the otherworldly planes that bridged the gap between Midgard and Asgard. And then, only then, would he truly be satisfied- assuming they came upon Valr, alive and well.

Loki walked gingerly out to the surrounding balcony and rested his hand on the thick bannister to alleviate the weight of _**his**_ pets, his words, as always, thought out time and time again before he dared utter them. "Go to Midgard." He began smoothly, his voice solid and commanding.

The ravens looked to him and turned their heads at an angle, unsure of how to reply to such a demand. "Seek out Valr Battle-Slain. Her whereabouts are unknown to me, hence why I fall to you for aid." They glanced up at the prince and pecked at his vembrace in question.

"_Yes?_" Loki sighed, his shoulders falling.

The ravens exchanged glances and cawed in unison, Hugin pulling at the fabric of his sleeve. "I am aware my father will be none too pleased should he find out. _But I warn you._ Travel to him, and you'll not like that to which you return." Their feathers rose at the growl in Loki's voice, but soon they squawked loudly in confirmation.

They flew off into the midday sky, past the twin moons of Asgard and out to the horizon, into the great sea of the cosmos, their course their own, their magic unparalleled. Loki turned from the sight and ventured deeper into the palace, and waited- less than patiently- their return.

His father would not know, nor should he need to, for what the God of Mischief wanted was answers.

**And he would get them. **

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The stone steps of the aged domicile greeted her as Valr stood, very much tense from her experience over the past few days, on the sidewalk. The loud hum of New York could be heard in the distance, but the sound meant nothing to her as she could not comprehend where on Midgard she stood. The house before her radiated a magical energy all about it, the painted brick peeling and faded, the windows busted and boarded over, and the surrounding sidewalks cracked in disrepair.

Valr gazed back skeptically to Coulson, who stood away at his car, his eyes veiled under tinted glasses and face stoic. "Here?" she asked, and pointed to the old building behind her. "This place looks like Volstagg's house after a party!"

"Believe me." Coulson offered, but did not move from his place beside his car, "Looks can be deceiving. You ought to know that."

Valr chewed her bottom lip and spun around to the house-that-had-seen-better-days. Two days before, when she sat crestfallen after the refusal of Heimdall, Coulson stuck close to her, probably not from the good of his heart, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Taking a deep breath, Valr took the first step, and another, and another until she stood at the sanguine door atop the stoop, the oxidized knocker at eye level. Coulson shook his wristwatch to catch it up to speed but said nothing, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "He's a bit odd." He added at the trepidation on her face, "But nothing worse than Stark. I'm sure you two will get along fine- like apples and peanut butter."

"What's peanut butter?" Valr quipped, her lip curled at the revolting image, but Coulson only grinned. "Doesn't sound that good."

Valr breathed deep and grabbed the simple knocker, slamming it against the door with three resounding booms. There was a quaking, a rumbling of sorts, and the door flew open inwards like it had been sucked into a vacuum. Pulling her inside without much choice in the matter, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving her in darkness.

"We'll keep in touch." Coulson said to himself, and swiftly left- as Stark was questioning the Avengers Initiative once again.

**00000**

The static in the air shifted, powerful hexes from preventing unwanted visitors dissipating at Valr's entrance. She stood in the darkened foyer and clung to the small bag in her hands, a duffle given to her by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent before her departure.

Filled with clothes, odd, unusual, and like to something one's nana wore, or C.O.U.L.S.O.N. as Valr liked to think of them, minus the "w", sat neatly folded in the bag- her armour far more comfortable.

Candles sprung to life suddenly, magically even, and illuminated the room. The light revealed beautiful, if aged, décor, most certainly not from this century, and a far cry from what Tony kept. The room was decorated in fine tapestries, several statues and busts, velvets, and embroidered furniture- much more comfortable than the sterile quarters Valr was given at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.

Any imperfection the outside suggested was merely a ruse, a disguise to hide what lay inside the home. A hideaway, a secretive base for those who wish to remain hidden and alone, but close enough to be called upon, prepared for the _strange_ and bizarre that plagued New York.

"So… you're the one S.H.I.E.L.D. has sent to me." A voice called from the remaining shadows surrounding the stairway. "There is a dark magic about you, young one. You've been tampered with, haven't you?"

Valr searched around the room for the voice that seemed to travel, never in one spot for long. "Tampered with?" she echoed, "Do you mean Hel?" Her inquiry to the unseen man was innocent and ignorant as she stood in the circle of firelight.

A penchant for the dramatic, he emerged from the darkness, hovering inches from the floor, his sanguine cape moving on a wind that played only against him. "Hell? Ridiculous." He continued, and stood- floated- at the edge of the candlelight.

Valr had seen such magic before, not illusions or tricks of the eye, but the magic of flight, and always it never ceased to fascinate her. "No, no. Hel? Hela Half-Rotted? Queen of the Dead and all of Helasheim?" she corrected, and sat her bag on the ornate run under her.

"Norse mythology is not my strong suit." He stated and touched the ground noiselessly. "But I do sense it. Your soul has been… _played with_."

The man stepped fully into the light and greeted her, his unusual garb mystical and flowing, his salt and peppered hair neatly combed back and his goatee rivaling that of Stark's in terms of ostentatiousness. "Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum. I am Doctor Strange. And as…" he rolled his eyes slowly with a flutter of his lashes, "… Director Fury would call me, your temporary caretaker. Why they did not choose to keep you, I am unsure. Perhaps they believed you _are_ from another realm, as I was told, and thought I would better understand you." He gave a small, unassuming smile and coiled his cape around his arm. "And I just might."

Strange faced away from her and ascended the stairs, "Come along, now. My home is far too large for you to explore on your own… and far more dangerous than it appears."

**00000**

Valr followed close behind one Doctor Stephen Strange, presumably the most powerful sorcerer on all of Midgard and maybe throughout the universe, turning this way and that down hallways that appeared or vanished on their own volition. The scope of his home, she realised, was on a far grander scale than what its exterior suggested- bigger on the inside, indeed. Its dimensions were an impossibility, the winding corridors and random rooms with nothing but open space, limitless space and distance, astounding her.

No doubt the strange 'doctor' did not lie. His home was more dangerous than Valr could have imagined.

There were no words shared whilst they walked, and not once did Doctor Strange look back to check on her. There was no need, really… Valr would not stray from his side in a place so unknown to her. But known to no other, Strange believed her tale wholeheartedly, even if Director Fury had his doubts. He could see past any lie, any untruth with the power of the amulet around his neck, the Eye of Agamotto, and searched every word that graced his ears.

An Asgardian was not the most bizarre being to grace his doorstep, but she was indeed his first, and most definitely not his last. His lip twitched at the thought, but he remained silent as he came to a stop before an unassuming door, a dim hall lamp across from it.

"These will be your quarters for the time being,-" Strange gave pause when he realised he hadn't known what to call her. "Valr." She added for him, but received no feedback, no thank you. "Not much, but I do not expect guests often."

Valr strode into the room and immediately scurried about to take in her accommodations. The room was quaint if a tad weird, nicely furnished and simple. There was a heaviness to the air, however, as though the house itself had to acclimate to her company.

"Thank you." Valr offered Strange and set her bag at her feet, a floor to ceiling window in front of her. She threw open the curtains, thick like pressed velvet, and chanced a look outside, the boards that covered nearly every window from the outside not seen from within. "Does all of York look like this?" she questioned as she continued to scan her surroundings.

"'New' York?" Doctor Strange corrected, "I suppose, but don't take my word for it. I imagine the view is far different than what you're accustomed to?"

Valr shook her head, "Not really. Asgard has a lot of tall buildings and the like, but it is a bit… um..." She thought for a moment and peered at Strange still in the doorway. "'New' York? What happened to the 'Old' one?"

"There was no 'Old' one, child. Believe me." He drawled and raised a hand to his forehead. Valr only laughed. "And _what_ is so amusing?"

"You keep callin' me 'Young one' or 'Child'. I think I'm old enough to be your…" she cleared her throat, "How old are you?"

"A rude question, to be sure." Strange muttered curtly, "But if you must know, I am in my eighties."

Valr let his words sink in, "That would make me old enough to at least be your great, great, great, great, great, great—" Strange narrowed his eyes as she continued to count, his lips falling into a frown. "Great, great, great, great, great grandmother." She counted on her fingers to keep track. "Or, I think that's right. Almost as old as Thor and Loki. Younger by a few years, if anything."

Doctor Strange could not detect a lie in her words and raised his brows in surprise. "That was… unexpected. That would make you nearly thirteen hundred years old."

Valr nodded, "I think it's closer to twelve hundred, but I've lost track."

**00000**

A pecking came at the window, and both Valr and Strange exchanged glances. There on the window sill sat two large ravens, annoyed at being barred entrance, and squawking loudly their displeasure. Valr moved to open the window, "Crows? Yours?"

"Ravens, actually. Much larger. But no…" Strange came forward to stop her from opening the window. "Next you'll be asking me if I wear a pointed hat."

Valr did not understand his joke and stared at the twin birds. "They seem rather ill-tempered." Strange raised a finger to her, "**Do not** let them in. You are the only guest I'll be having, and I'll not see them soiling the rugs."

His cape whisked behind him, Strange stepped from the room and closed the door. "Sleep well, and don't mind the noise. The house likes to… _settle._"

The ravens pecked feverishly at Valr's window, demanding entrance. Her hands twitched, and she went to raise them to the small lock atop the window pane. A shock ran through her hands at the touch and she was sent stumbling back onto her bottom. "Heed my words, Valr." Doctor Strange's voice echoed through her room, "Lest my home cast you out."

Valr sighed and shook her hands of the static that clung to them, discontented with only staring at the two impatient birds. Loki had done a similar trick years ago when Valr went to hug him. For almost two days her hair stood on end, and still she did not forgive him for it.

The ravens stopped pecking at the sight, as though they were aware of her predicament, as if they, too, heard his words.

The Allfather kept ravens, Valr thought, and was comforted at the idea he watched on, monitored her in some way. But her dreams were dashed when she realised if such an idea were true, he, Odin, would have heard her cries, even if Heimdall had not. "I've lost my mind." She told herself, and crawled across the rug toward the window.

The ravens straightened at her approach and stood tall, side by side, at the glass, their eyes glistening and wide. "If, by some small chance," she started loudly so they could hear her, her fingers drumming against the panes, "you do understand, bring a message for me to… to…" she rubbed at the short bristles growing on the side of her head, her warrior's stripe, a "Mohawk" as Coulson described it to her, still prominent. "Bring a message to Odin, Thor, Loki, whoever you can find. Tell them I'm alright. Well, I guess that's not entirely true, but I am alive. Tell them not to worry. But I do want to come home."

The ravens cawed in unison at her words and dove from the sill into the night without warning. "Whoa! Hold on! I wasn't…" but the birds were gone, vanished not into the sky, not anywhere it seemed, but gone from sight completely.

Valr sat on the seat of her pants and pursed her lips in annoyance.

"**At least tell them I miss them.**"

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**LOKI'S REVELATION**


	7. Loki's Revelation

_I really want to thank you guys for all the awesome review here and on DeviantART. It really gives me the inspiration to keep writing._

**Chapter 7: Loki's Revelation**

**00000  
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Odin was beyond furious, enraged, and everywhere in between.

Geri and Freki watched him pace about his bedchamber; Gungnir in hand, fully armoured and most definitely heated. Even Frigga stayed wary of him in such a rage, for truly the anger of the Allfather none wished upon themselves.

Hugin and Munin vanished without his command, and from his throne he spied them on Midgard, circumnavigating the world of mortals with a cause unknown to him. Loki, he knew, was behind such an act, a violation of his orders- or so he thought when at first he was angered- but he could not prove it, for he did not see the event for himself. He, Odin, had been on Vanaheim, discussing pressing matters with the elves that resided there, leaving his pets and throne empty for a short time- open for his son to slither his way in.

But Loki had not disobeyed him, Odin concluded, for no portal via the Bridge Bifrost was opened, no son of his gone from Asgard to search on nothing more than a whisper of a rumour, a possible lie from Hel herself.

The God of Mischief was good at finding loopholes in every command, every order. _An idea that drove the Allfather mad. _

Odin seated his weary form and pinched the bridge of his nose betwixt his fingers, his one good eye closed to calm himself. They, his ravens, would return in a day's time, less no doubt, and with them the knowledge of their travels.

**00000**

Meanwhile, off in the far reaches of the palace, surrounded by his brother, Thor, and his confidants Loki waited anxiously for the ravens' return. He sat, hands cupped under his chin, and paid no mind to the banter of the God of Thunder and All-Things-Noisy-and-Boisterous and Lady Sif, their loud arguing amusing any other moment save for this one. Hugin and Munin had been gone for nearly a day's time, as the search for a single being was one wrought with difficulty. Odin's blindness was far more than cosmetic; Loki told himself and sat forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Why so glum?" Thor asked at his back and placed three strong pats against his shoulder.

The wind knocked from his lungs, Loki collected himself quickly. "It is none of your concern, brother." He replied dryly and straightened his coat, "Do not worry yourself with my well-being."

Thor laughed and seated himself by the much smaller of gods, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement, "Perhaps you are right." He quipped, "But you must admit, Loki, such a foul mood is uncommon even for you." Thor loosed another hearty laugh at the look that crossed Loki's face, his eyes narrowed and jaw set tight. "It will pass." He added in all seriousness and nudged at his brother's arm.

Silence sat between Thor and Loki then, and for once the trickster felt as though he should heed his sibling's words. What if Hugin and Munin returned with no word of Valr? That all Hel said was a lie, a cruel trick against the would-be trickster god? Perhaps, then, the feeling would pass, the pang in his heart dulling until he no longer felt sadness at the thought.

Loki turned his gaze away from Thor and covered his mouth with his palm to think, his eyes veiled to watch his boots. The anxiety made his nauseous, made bile rise in his throat and his hands quake. If the tables had been reversed, say he was the one to jest with a poor soul, he would have found a great deal of hilarity behind it all.

But Loki shot up at a loud caw echoing through the air, two approaching dots on the horizon, out at the tip of Asgard's sea.

They returned! His heart raced in anticipation at their words, of their hopeful success, and he stood from his spot beside Thor to greet them with an outstretched arm. Hugin landed gracefully on his vembrace and Munin on his shoulder, their forms ragged with fatigue.

Thor peered up to his brother and the twin ravens, his brow furrowed. "Are those father's birds?" he asked, but remained seated.

"What did you find?" Loki questioned eagerly, and raised Hugin to face him fully. Munin sidled closer and whispered into his ear, confirming what they had seen on their journey. Hugin looked the god dead in the eye, and in an instant their thoughts were one, a bizarre connection Loki had never felt before.

There was a haze, the night on Midgard bright under city lights. Loki watched on through eyes that were not his own, his breath caught in his chest.

There Valr sat, still dressed in the armour in which she was to be burned, shadowed by a man unknown to Loki. She was alive! Truly! Not some ruse, trick, or lie! Valr lived on Midgard!

Loki watched on as she, just as he had known her, went against her "friend's" words and tried to open the window to allow the ravens entrance, but was thrown back. He chuckled at her expression of shock, but soon scowled at the voice that followed, commanding her to heed his words.

Thor sat quietly and watched on as his brother absorbed the knowledge of the ravens, silencing Volstagg when he came about them to ask what the commotion was.

"_If, by some small chance, you do understand, bring a message for me to… to…_" Loki listened closely to Valr's voice, and heard not a cry of desperation or sorrow, but an annoyed confidence- it was the Valr he knew best. "_Bring a message to Odin, Thor, Loki, whoever you can find. Tell them I'm alright. Well, I guess that's not entirely true, but I am alive. Tell them not to worry. But I do want to come home._"

Loki gasped for air as Hugin broke eye contact and jumped to his free shoulder, the two ravens at his ears, the relief in his chest hiding the weight that literally rested on his shoulders. "Loki, what is it? What have they told you? What have you seen?" Thor dared to ask the questions the Warriors Three and Sif did not utter.

Loki turned without a word and pushed past the four warriors, his brother following closely in tow. Hugin and Munin bobbed with each step he took, but his pace did not slow even as Thor quickly caught up to him. "Loki! Brother, tell me!"

Loki spun on his heel to meet Thor face to face, his eyes crazed and face grave. "**She's alive!**" he hissed, the ravens bristled as though to match his wild expression. Thor searched his brother's face, "Valr is alive! Hel took her, after she'd been killed by the trolls' warbeast, and sent her away to Midgard. She's alive, Thor. Not even father would believe my words."

Thor grasped Loki's arm tightly and shook, "Be calm, brother. Are you sure? The ravens showed you this?" Loki could only nod, and the thunder god released him from his hold. "What will you do?"

"Father will not let me open the Bifrost to Midgard." Loki began, and played at the cuff of his sleeve.

"But what if Hugin and Munin show him what you have seen? Surely, the Allfather would not deny you then!"

"It is far more serious than that, Thor. Even with such knowledge, he will not allow entrance to Earth. I suspect Father sees something we do not."

"Does her safety alone not suffice, Loki?" Thor whispered in an attempt to quell the trickster's shaking. "Is she not well? Perhaps, it is best Valr…"

Loki growled dangerously at Thor, his teeth bared for a brief moment in primal anger. "**No!**" The ravens cawed madly their displeasure at such bickering, such squabbling, and dug their talons deep into the fabric of Loki's coat. He stiffened at the piercing claws, and reminded himself of his station. "Father will be furious." He murmured, collecting himself. "If I do not tell him, the ravens eventually will, no matter the orders I give them. If I admit my actions, even after allowing father to see Hel spoke the truth, I will still be…"

Thor clenched his jaw and stood tall, his broad frame massive even when he slouched, " I will tell him, then, that it was I who sent them to Midgard- if only for your sake." Loki gazed on, downtrodden, breathing heavily to catch his racing heart. "I was… 'pained by your sadness. The loss of your friend more traumatic than I'd thought.'" He conjured up in a flash. "Odin might just believe it. _Might._"

Loki cast his eyes to the floor and ran a hand over the smooth feathers of Hugin's head. "Thank you, Thor."

**00000**

Valr's neck ached terribly, for she'd fallen asleep at her window near about midnight. Rain pelted the dirtied panes through the illusions of boards, cleaning any grime on the outside away. A thunderstorm raged all through the night, and comforted at the sound and constant flashes of lightning the Asgardian sacrificed the softness of a bed to stay as near as possible to the window (as she had found, when attempting to sneak from her room, the doorknob had mysteriously disappeared). "Either Thor is having another party, or he and Loki got into a fight." She thought before sleep took her.

But when the morning sun rose it sat concealed by dismal clouds, remnants of the storm. Valr cracked her back and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess atop her head and her armour laid out neatly behind her. Only then, when she sat alone on the rug in "her room" did she realised how terrible she must look.

Originally, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Fury sent an agent, and by "agent" he meant Coulson, to show Valr her quarters. Amongst the things in her broom closet of a room was a most peculiar contraption. "It's a controllable waterfall?" Valr insisted on calling it, only to the amusement of the agent. Of course, she'd taken baths- she wasn't uncouth by any means, and her Mohawk would mat otherwise- but never before had she seen water shoot from a small spigot with such force.

For twenty minutes, she sat in the tub, only realising after the first five that she could control the temperature so that it did not scald her skin, and pondered in her pool of collecting water, letting it storm down her back. Was she to be stuck on Midgard for the rest of her years? Not a terrible fate, but she ached for home, the thrill of battle, the grand parties in the palace, and her loved ones. And, as she sat in her shower once again, the idea of spending several hundred years with a hermit such as Strange wasn't the most attractive prospect.

Even in the Sanctum Sanctorum, she sat and thought since she was allowed the time. What of the Chitauri? Why had they come to Midgard of all places, and why had they gone after Tony Stark- who just so happened to have recently met Valr? It was all too coincidental, she concluded and stood from the floor, her hips sore from how she had slept.

Valr never encountered a Chitauri warrior herself before having come to Midgard, and knew not from where they came or who their leader was. But they craved power, weapons, technology, anything valuable that could prove potentially threatening they desired. Maybe they thought Tony possessed such things, or knew of someone who did. S.H.I.E.L.D. did, obviously, its scientists almost a commodity and extremely valuable, their base thriving like a beehive. Perhaps it was fate, cruel as it was, that sent Valr to Midgard with the hope she would come to aid it in some way, any way she could against an approaching threat.

After a struggle with her door, the blasted thing sealing her away in her room after her bath, Valr trotted down the hallway, her armour left behind in her room to be polished later. The clothes she wore felt weird and unnatural to her and again she blamed Coulson, as he always seemed to enjoy toying with her.

Light filtered through the windows in the front hall and illuminated the dust thrown into the air with her steps, small diamonds in the dim brood of gray daylight. "Where is he?" Valr asked as she tiptoed her way through many corridors and rooms, one blending into the next without pause.

One such room fascinated her. _A library._ Shelves upon shelves, innumerable and laden with yellowed tomes- she could smell the age on them, that heavy musk she took secret pleasure in.

When she was younger, Thor took one of her father's books from her, _The Field Guide to the Extraordinary and Spectacular_, a wonderful read on ancient beasts such as dragons and giants. In an attempt to impress her before Loki with "better magic", Thor set the book ablaze by accident with a bolt of lightning, turning the book to ashes and leaving Valr with a red behind at the end of the day when she had to explain to her father as to where the book went. One of the many, a list she'd compiled, reasons she would never trust Thor with her personal belongings or secrets every again.

But Valr passed the library by and swore to return later that day, if Strange did not lock her in her room again, perhaps when she was left to her own devices. Strange was her target that morning, and she'd seen neither hide nor hair of him since the evening before. "A regular hermit." She mocked and looked to the many paintings and artifacts dotting the walls, odd little knickknacks here or there, inhuman or guttural noises emanating from the walls, and chills that would come and go. She could have sworn one painting groped at her arm, asking for a minute of her time, but continued upwards into the dank recesses of the third floor.

At the landing, Valr stood at a large door, mostly unremarkable save for the small sigils burned into the wooden surface. Amongst a number of stacks of books and many unlit candles Strange floated about, legs crossed, palms up, and eyes closed in a small circle of light provided by the round window in the slanted ceiling. The floor creaked and whined under Valr's step as she tread forward across the rug, her bare feet against the cool plush.

"What did I tell you about wandering alone?" Strange questioned Valr flatly, deep in some kind of meditation.

"You expect me to stay locked away until S.H.I.E.L.D. decides what they're going to do with me?" Valr answered and skimmed her hand across a bookshelf positioned against the wall.

Strange's cloak ruffled out as he continued to float, not at all turning to speak with her. He sighed and cracked open one eye to stare at the gray clouds through the window. "Of course not. You're not some animal trapped away in a cage. And I am merely your… keeper of sorts." He circled about to face her, his elbow rested on his leg. "Maybe you _can_ help me with something, then." He lowered himself to the floor and strode away with the simple order of "stay put", leaving Valr alone in the attic-like space.

She did as she was commanded and rooted herself to the floor, deciding it far more comfortable on her aching hip to sit on a short pile of books. She drummed her fingers against her knees through the long minutes of Strange's absence, but perked up at the sound of the door opening.

Under his arm Strange carried a small, wooden chest, locked with a simple key, but no doubt protected by powerful spells to prevent its opening. "I was entrusted this not too long ago. From whom and by whom I'll not say, but feel privileged I am even sharing this with you." Doctor Strange sat in midair and presented the box to Valr, a strong aura radiating from within. He watched her open it silently and awaited her reaction, if any, to its contents. "You might be able to provide some insight."

A small gem like a glittering, rounded pebble one would find at the bottom of a brook sat inside the box, green in colour and mesmerizing in gleam. Valr hesitantly pulled the stone from its case and held it in the palm of her hand. "Is this an Infinity Gem?" She held it up to the light and stared through the translucent stone, an orb of green splashed on her face. A Midgardian, of all people, was in possession of one of the few most powerful artifacts in all the universe, an idea that astounded her.

Strange grinned at the knowledge she was surprised and answered earnestly. "Yes. The Soul Gem, to be exact. A bit… temperamental, hence my need to lock it away. Its hunger is insatiable, you see. It desires souls, craves them. And though it may appear to protect its owner, do not doubt it would betray them."

"I couldn't help you much with it." Valr admitted, and stroked at the gem's smooth surface. "I only know a bit, and that what I've learnt from books." She passed the stone to Strange when she felt a great pull against her, an unwelcome tug. "I've read something about an Infinity Gauntlet, but I've never seen the thing for myself." A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. "Used to be a game when I was little. Instead of being King of Asgard, Queen, what have you, we'd play a game where we had the gauntlet, became the strongest being in the universe. Absolute control." Valr bit her lip. "Horrible thought now, when you get right down to it, but we didn't see it that way back then."

Strange mused over her words for a minute and rolled the gem across his gloved fingers, his other hand on his chin. He sighed and set the stone back in its box, locking it away with the whisk of his hands. "It annoys me to no end, to know so little of something and yet be ordered to watch over it. The same could be said for you, I suppose. No offense."

Valr shook her head in dismissal, "It's alright. But I do have one question." Strange leaned against his hand and stared at her quite bored. "If you know so much about magic, which obviously you do- I'm not trying to stroke your ego, by the way- is there any way you can use…" Valr fought for the right words, trying to remember what Loki had said on the matter. "Astral projection, I think it is?"

Doctor Strange straightened at the question and leaned forward, "Whatever for?"

"A personal thing. I just wanted to see a few people, couple of places back on Asgard, see how everyone is faring. I just wanted to see if everything is alright after the trolls' attack."

"Surely your intentions are not so selfless?" Strange smirked, "I know that look, my dear. There's someone in particular you want to see, isn't there?"

Valr's face flushed and she rubbed at the back of her neck, her cheeks hot, and her usually strong and somewhat cocky demeanor gone. "You can't hide it. Despite what you may think, I've had my share of 'loves', if I had to call them something."

"It's not like that." She interjected. "He's a friend. Just a friend **I love quite a bit.**I just want to check on him. And the others, _of course._"

"_Of course._" Strange mocked at the blush on Valr's cheeks. "**We'll see.**"

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**ASSAULT**


	8. Assault

**Wow! I really want to thank you guys for all your reviews. Seriously! On here and DA, it's been crazy. Thank you so much for reading, and I really do appreciate you guys for supporting me with this.  
**

**00000  
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**Chapter 8: Assault**

Thor withstood the anger thrown at him from his father and simply took it in stride, having been dealt far greater telling-to's than the one he most recently received. For his brother, Loki's, own sake he confessed to Odin, as promised, that it was in fact he who stole Hugin and Munin, sending them to Midgard. Odin relaxed in his throne at his son's words, fully aware of his other ilk hiding away behind a pillar, listening in to their conversation.

The king of Asgard was no fool, and knew well Thor's lie, but humoured him all the same. Still, even with the knowledge Valr lived, proven by his precious ravens, he would not allow entry onto Midgard. He sensed the darkness of the Chitauri amongst the humans, but knew not where they hid.

Odin refused to share this knowledge, as it would only invite the lust for war from his first born and worry for Loki. It was cruel not to inform them, of this he was aware, but it was none of their concern. The affairs of mortals should be those of mortals alone, and no other.

No, the Allfather sent both Thor and Loki on their way without repercussion and pondered the appearance of so ancient a race, and what they sought- something powerful- on Earth.

"I know now Father is hiding something." Loki admitted whilst he and his brother walked side by side into the courtyard, his hands laced behind his back.

"He does what he believes is best." Thor replied honestly, but could concur with Loki's idea. "Take comfort in what you do know. Perhaps fate herself sent Valr to Midgard. Maybe…"

"**Hel sent her there.**" Loki corrected dryly, a growl under his words. He sauntered past his brother by a few paces, "And I believe she, or someone she has allied herself with, is controlling everything. Like a puppet master. There must be a reason behind Valr's being there. Some connection."

Thor sighed and adjusted his footing, his hip pivoted to place a hand on Mjolnir at his side, "She'll do fine, and hopefully she has already found comfort in new friends. Valr will protect what she can."

Despite the reassurance Loki fretted with anxiety. "She could not even protect herself."

**00000**

Valr patted against the open flames mercilessly with an oven mitt, the skillet before her filled with char and what used to be, or assumed to be, eggs. How one could set eggs ablaze only the Asgardian knew, but the smell and smoke wafted not only through the kitchen but the entirety of the Sanctum.

"You've succeeded in destroying another oven mitt. That, and four towels. I appreciate the sentiment, but you're doing more harm than good." Valr sat across the table from Doctor Strange and admitted defeat via placing her head against the wood. "I have some gold stars somewhere. I'll give you one for effort."

Valr knew when she was being poked at and scowled, "I'll pay you back for them."

"With?" he asked, and turned the page of his newspaper without touching it, his unshaven face covered in a thin stubble.

"A drinking bout. Winner takes all."

Strange chuckled, "I know you will win, but I'll be damned to let you pay me back with my own money. Nice try, though. You've earned another star." He took a sip of his black coffee, hardly any sugar, if any at all, from what Valr saw. "And you've already gone through a dozen eggs. I suggest cereal. I don't think even you could manage to mess that up."

Valr lifted a burnt towel and threw it at him. But with one finger Strange redirected it back at her. "No." he laughed without even looking at her, knowing the towel smacked her face, pulling her Mohawk down with it. "And might I suggest something?" he didn't bother to wait for her reply. "A haircut. You look like a ragamuffin. Hardly ladylike."

"It's a family tradition." Valr retorted and pulled the towel from her face. "I cut my hair, you shave your goatee."

"No." Strange repeated.

"Makes you look old." It was time for Strange to narrow his gaze, and for a few moments he and Valr only stared at one another, neither giving up the fight.

Even though she would never admit it aloud to herself or anyone around, unless she'd gotten drunk, Valr found the good doctor… handsome, if she had to describe him. A bit dry and certainly not soft spoken, but dashing even given the hermit attitude. Bit of a complex, too, but the thought only made her chuckle. The same couldn't be said for Strange, as she could not deduce what he thought of her, or whether or not he even _trusted_ her. But she was comfortable, at least, around him, provided there was a good five feet of separation betwixt them.

As for Strange's friend, or whatever he was, Wong, only crossed paths with Valr once, and that happened upon her trying to sneak out of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The man said nothing as he confronted her at the front door, and merely stood behind the young Asgardian whilst she opened the door to the outside world. Or tried to open it.

Strong magical hexes and incantations left the door firmly shut and locked, and even as Wong opened the door to allow her exit she found she couldn't leave. An invisible field threw her back onto the seat of her pants, the door slamming shut in suit.

Valr wanted to explore all of "New" York, see every building, every shop she could find, hear the bustle of such vast a city, to be reminded of the busy streets of Asgard. She wanted that inkling of home in any way possible if she was to stay on Midgard, and to be shut away from the world drove her mad, and rightly so. The exhilaration she felt at riding upon Tony's back ignited her curiosity as they flew about the scrapers on the coast, the people below dots and the sky above open. The darkened corridors of Strange's home confined her like a caged bird, the small spaces and changing hallways hard to bear.

She'd even taken to conversing with the paintings about the Sanctum, and found solstice in the library amongst the books, though she could hardly translate them- their texts scrambling and shifting.

Still, Valr tried, and as the day passed she grew bored. Her armour polished, her room cleaned, and her person already showered, she sat quietly on her floor and played at the end of her floor rug. Forgoing dinner, and having already wandered the halls, paced her room, and set about staring out her window she found herself longing for excitement, an adrenaline rush. But with the sun hidden from view behind the evening clouds, she sat and talked with the painting she'd met her first morning in the Sanctum Sanctorum, the one that had asked her for a moment of her time.

The painting spoke without end the complexities of dimensional travel, and how about Valr would accomplish such a feat, but their conversation was cut short.

The small lamp at her bedside shorted out, its warm glow disappearing with a snap. The shadows around her grew foreboding, and instinctively she grabbed her sword from atop her bed.

"Good heavens!" the portrait exclaimed at the sudden darkness, his accent heavy through a thick but nicely oiled moustache. "A power surge, maybe." He told Valr, who had yet to understand the workings of light bulbs even as she set about lighting a tarnished candelabra on her nightstand. "Go find the Hermit. He may just have zapped himself again. I remember the last time he did this. Damned middle of winter. My moustache nearly…"

But Valr paid him no mind and ventured into the hall with sword and candelabra in hand, over-prepared but secured.

The darkness of the hall sent chills down her spine like the bite of Jotunheim's winds, but she continued further into the Sanctum, heading up toward the attic. "Strange!" Valr called out, but to no avail, no answer. "What kind of magic were you playing with?"

A wind played at Valr's clothes and from behind Strange appeared, his cloak thrown over his arm and his hands alive with light. He illuminated the room around them, Valr's candles dangerously close to his head as she waved them around in surprise. "Don't do that!" she whispered, and collected herself.

"What did you do?" Doctor Strange asked, his voice low and stressed. "I told you not to…"

"I didn't do this. I thought this," she waved the candelabra around, the flames a blur, "was your doing."

Almost on cue, creaks emanated from the floor above them, scratches against the floor and loud thuds as though something, or someone, was clambering about. "You opened that box in the hallway, didn't you?" Strange accused, but continued to stare upwards at the ceiling. "I told you, my relics are not things to be played with."

"Don't lay blame on me." Valr responded with a finger pushed into his chest, drawing his attention back toward her. Nearly a foot taller than the Asgardian, he could give her credit for her audacity, though her headstrong attitude, he knew from personal experience, would eventually get her into trouble. "If you were a better host, then maybe I wouldn't find myself playing with your 'toys', or, or talking with paintings, or running headlong into invisible doors."

Strange readied himself a witty retort at her words, grabbing her wrist to make his point. Instead of arguing, though, fueling the fire between them, he pulled her forward toward him just as the ceiling gave way above her, removing her from harm's way. She clutched at his cloak now that her candelabra lay burnt out on the floor, her sword still readied, pointed at whatever lay on the floor amongst the rubble.

Strange pulled Valr further away from the moving pile, the tips of his fingers alive with small sparks, his other hand coiled into the back of her shirt to prevent her from running ahead foolishly.

The splintered wood fell away and from beneath rose a lumbering figure, their gray skin sickly and their body armoured in thick and jagged metal. "A Chitauri?" Valr gasped and tried to run forward toward her newest opponent, her lust for battle reignited after days of sitting around.

Doctor Strange held her firmly by her shirt and yanked her back like a dog on a leash. "I beg your pardon, but do you mind repeating that?" he inquired calmly, not at all bothered by the warrior that was slowly leveling the room, busting away furniture in search of something.

Slapping his hand away Valr looked to him, her sword still directed at the single Chitauri, another huddled at the hole in the ceiling. "It's a Chitauri. Same creatures that attacked Tony's… whatever it was that Tony had, the first day I was on Midgard."

"Maybe they're following you." Strange stated flatly and whipped his hand in the air, a whispered incantation on his lips. "Do you have something of importance they could want, or," the Chitauri fell as he flicked his finger in its direction, killed instantly by a small disk of light. "Are **you** the one controlling them?"

Valr and Strange stood silently in the empty room, her eyes locked on him intently, his accusation hurtful. She shook her head and adjusted the sword in her hand. "I… no." she sighed and listened closely to the scurrying above them. "Help me beat them, find out why they keep showing up." And for once in a long while, Valr swallowed her pride, "_Please._"

Doctor Strange searched her face and glanced at the now empty hole in the ceiling. "Fine."

Remembering what happened on Asgard the night of her death, when Valr insisted in splitting up with Loki to divide and conquer the invading Troll forces, she breathed deep. "We fight together though." She tried mightily, but the quiver in her voice could not be hidden. Her eyes never seemed to land on him as she spoke, and he easily heard the trepidation in her voice.

"Of course. But you're cleaning this mess up afterwards."

**00000**

Another Chitauri fell to Doctor Strange as a blaze spread through their numbers, the hall filled with the humanoid invaders. "Twenty-seven." He counted off haughtily, a game they started between them. He lounged in the air, hardly worked up over the fact his home was being torn up, his chin in his palm. "You're making this easy. Try harder. I'm getting bored."

"Twenty-two." Valr mumbled, and another fell under her sword, not at all loving the feeling of losing to the hermit.

"What was our deal again?" Strange started, a smirk on his face. "I win, you give me a massage?" he jested, but the comment annoyed Valr nonetheless.

"That was never in our agreement. And touching you is not on my list of priorities."

The Sorcerer Supreme laughed and vanquished yet another Chitauri, slowly making his way upwards, further into the Sanctum. "Really now? So clutching at my cloak like a frightened child was involuntary?"

Valr ran forward into a group of warriors, slashing her way through. "Twenty-Five. And you're one to talk. If I remember right, **you** were the one who grabbed** me**." There came another moment of tense silence, narrowed glares exchanged from one to the other.

Upon entering the Library Strange stopped, his arm extended to hold Valr at bay behind him. "Stop. I think I may know why our _guests_ are here."

Peering into the room past his arm, Valr saw numerous Chitauri huddled together, the centermost warrior holding fast to a small, familiar wooden chest. "It has the Soul Gem!" she yelled, pulling at Strange's arm to move him from her path. He did not budge, however, and his face sat flat and disinterested.

"I'm going to ask you to leave now, Valr. Your friends and I have "personal" business to which we must attend."

"I'm not leaving you to them." She insisted, and swooped under his arm, past his overly large cloak, into the room, alerting the Chitauri to their presence. "And besides, I…"

With the snap of his fingers Valr vanished from both sight and mind, completely gone from the Sanctum Sanctorum and to a place all too familiar.

**00000**

Tony Stark fiddled away, tinkered with his armour in the early hours of the evening, his workshop cluttered with metallic odds and ends and unused components. Sparks flew past his face as he welded away at the chestplate of his suit, his tinted glasses flashing with each spurt, his face riddled with black grease marks.

His concentration was shattered when the air above him twisted, and from nothing Valr appeared. She landed roughly on his armour, knocking it to the floor with her on top of it, her eyes wide and the breath knocked out of her.

"You've really got to learn how to use a door, kid. I can teach you. Twelve easy steps." Tony joked and pulled off his goggles, his welding torch set on the table behind him. He would have laughed at the dumb look on her face had he known her better, but settled with snorting at her wide-eyed, mouth ajar expression. "Doc throws some wild parties, huh?"

Tony walked over to a small bar against the wall, "Not as good as mine, mind you, but you've gotta give him credit. Drink?" Valr stayed silent and collected herself, Tony's armour digging into her back. "Yep. Something strong."

Valr, after staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, decided it was best to stay put, regardless of the pain in her back, her sword fallen to the floor. Tony waltzed back over and sat down on a small crate in front of her, waving a glass in front of her face. "Rough day, huh?" he set the drink down on the floor, "Doc running your ass ragged yet?"

"In a manner of speaking." Valr followed, rolling from Tony's fallen suit. "Chitauri showed up at the Sanctum Sanctorum. Strange was pretty sure he knew what they were after." Refusing to stand, she rolled over to her drink and leaned against the side of the crate on which Tony sat.

"Same guys that were messing with my stuff?" she nodded. "And Strangey sent you here?" His upper lip twitched, "Showoff." Tony finished his drink and chewed on a piece of ice. "Just what I need. Him showing up like some kind of Shakespeare reject at my door." This made Valr laugh, not because she understood, but because she knew he was poking fun at the hermit.

"Guy needs to get out more, I guess." Tony sighed. "Pretty damned good excuse, if you ask me."

**00000**

"How goes your… _our_ quest?" Hel asked quietly the shrouded figure seated upon the throne before her.

She floated amongst the open space and cosmic miasma, rock, large and small, swarmed around the bizarre, illuminated structure on which the throne sat. A gigantesque being sat silently on the would-be throne, his hands rested on the arms of the stone chair.

Hel grinned and touched the ground, her hand placed on her hip in a sultry fashion. She walked about, strutted almost. "Your plan was a bit convoluted. Impressive, but I would have gone with a far more direct approach."

"And that is where you would have failed." Her partner concluded, his gravel-like voice deep and powerful.

Hel scowled and flew forward in a rage. "Really, now? And yet, here you sit, waiting idly like a fool whilst your puppets scour Midgard for the gems! Your little Asgardians are proving a nuisance, as well. The little prince is causing trouble."

"Slowly but surely. I'll retrieve the girl when the time is right. But for now, I wait."

Hel growled, seated in the air high above him, "And my payment?"

"You'll soon get your just desserts. But don't get ahead of yourself, lest you wish to see if the Queen of the Dead can truly die."

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**TO ASGARD **

**I'd love it if you guys reviewed. I really do look forward to what you have to say, or some insight you guys have!  
**


	9. To Asgard

**I want to thank everyone that has reviewed! I know I haven't updated this in a while, but I'm still going at it!**

**Also, if you're interested, I draw doodles of upcoming characters and stuff on my DA, Esuerc. Check it out!**

**00000**

**Chapter 9: To Asgard**

**00000**

Valr hissed as Tony applied a small cotton cloth to her face, a fresh cut bubbling beneath the soaked rag of rubbing alcohol. "Stop it, you big baby." Tony poked fun, pulling her face back when she tried to turn away.

Earlier, one of Tony's robots swung by accident when Valr inspected the strange machine aptly named "dummy", the grabbing claw mounted at its end skimming a shallow line across her cheek. It wouldn't scar, but the red line would show for a short while- the thought not bothering Valr in the least.

Over the course of the night, Coulson contacted Stark regarding Valr's whereabouts, hearing only from Strange afterwards as to where he sent her. The Sorcerer Supreme regretted asking to speak to the young Asgardian to ensure she was alright when it was painfully obvious she hadn't known how to use a phone, assured that somehow Strange was trapped somewhere within.

"If Strangey asks about the cut thing," Tony waved at her face with his fingers dramatically, "Tell him it was a bad idea to play with your sword in the house. Parents tell their kids that crap all the time- he'll go for it." He finished cleaning her cut with a laugh and rose from his seat, throwing the rag into a bin at his desk.

"Or I can say you and I got into a drunken brawl." Valr added, her cheek a bright red where Tony had rubbed at it.

"Either way, sounds like a good night." Tony leaned against his desk with his arms folded. "Wouldn't be the first time I've gotten into one. Old pal of mine- you should have seen it," he raised his fists for emphasis, punching shortly into the air, "We got into it, Pepper was pissed. You know, the usual. Showed him, though."

"Before or after you 'got your ass beat'?" Valr quoted with her fingers, much to the surprise of Tony, who pursed his lips at the question and rubbed at his nose.

"I heard it from the television." She corrected quickly, "Strange left it on one night, and…"

"Speaking of which, Coulson should be here soon. Take you back to your **babysitter**." He chuckled and dodged the pillow thrown at him from the couch, "Don't worry. I'll tell him to wash your mouth out with soap."

**00000**

Staying the night with Tony proved a welcome change from the usual lonely evenings Valr spent in the Sanctum Sanctorum- finally provided the comfort of a relaxed conversation compared to the talks with the hermit. Strange always seemed to predict one's words before they were said, leading to a less than pleased Valr.

She drank… heavily, laughed, and joked until both she and Tony were red in the face, only to be ordered to bed by an angered red-headed woman whom Valr known only as Pepper.

Stark was not a harsh man, she came to find, not robotic and uncaring like many of his creations, and it was a pity such was thought of him. He believed in the mundane and the unusual, but not magic- he made that point clear- believed Valr regardless of how farfetched her story sounded to those on Earth, believed when others did not. Which, in the end, Valr thought amusing.

He was a contradiction.

It was saddening almost Valr had to return to Strange, but now she had a determined path, a list of things she needed done. She would again ask of the Sorcerer Supreme the powers of astral and dimension travel, if only to warn Asgard of the impending threat of the Chitauri- assuming Odin had seen their numbers gathering on Earth.

And, as much as it pained her to admit, she could not leave Earth, Midgard, to such a fate at the hands of the ancient race, those inhuman warriors.

Valr decided then, even through the pounding in her head, she would remain in the human realm, help them in any way she could.

**00000**

The front door fell to the floor of the Sanctum's foyer, taken from its hinges. Valr backed away at the following echo and dared to peek inside, Agent Coulson at her side mirroring her. He clung to the doorway; sunglasses pinned on the small chest pocket of his suit, and stared into the shadows of the all too quiet house.

"He was like this earlier. He's none too happy about what they did- considering he had to clean it up." Coulson nudged at the fallen door with his shoe, "Got a little lazy."

"Strange!" Valr called, her hand cupped around her mouth as she stepped across the fallen door inside. Coulson soon followed, treading carefully over the wobbling door until he stood in the foyer.

"Came here earlier, this morning actually, after the Doc contacted us. He's alive and well, I'm afraid." Coulson smiled at Valr's dour frown.

The Asgardian rolled her eyes at the comment and watched the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent attempt to replace the front door, only to watch it fall forward down the stoop. It skidded to a stop only a few inches from his car, relieving the terror etched on his face. "He told us about the gem, too. Not that we didn't know, but everything is starting to come together, at least."

"He tells you more than he tells me." Valr scanned the foyer, "Where is Strange now?" she shuffled through the debris left behind that Strange hadn't bothered, or was too tired, to clean up, mostly scraps of wood and piles of dust.

"Upstairs, most likely." Coulson replied, and dusted away some lint from his pants. "He was meditating when we came by again later in the day. Stressed out."

Valr and Coulson traversed the Sanctum, through the changing hallways and shifting corridors, past the paintings that now bothered the agent with incessant questions, until they stood at the door to the attic.

Situated across the room in front of the window, a small tea cup and plate in his hand sat- in midair- Strange, his eyes sunken like he hadn't slept a wink. "Back again, Phil?" the Sorcerer asked, his hand at his forehead to rub at his temple, "And you've brought Valr back. Splendid." The sarcasm in his voice was heavy, and normally a quick retort would have found its way to Valr's lips, but she stayed quiet.

"I take it you can handle it from here, Doc?" Coulson headed out the room, leaving more swiftly than Valr would have liked.

She stood silently and tapped her foot against the carpet nervously. Strange turned to face her, his tea cup balanced delicately on his knee. "I could have helped." Valr began before he spoke, the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"I am aware of your capabilities, but it is **my** duty to protect the Soul Gem. I didn't need or want your assistance." He touched the ground, but left his cup in the air beside his head, "And please tell me you apologized to Tony for smashing his phone."

"I did, thank you." She was quick to defend, her face flushing, "And you didn't seem to mind my help before." A grin stretched across her cheeks, "Or was it because I was winning and you had to catch up? **Cheater.**"

Valr's comment elicited a genuine laugh from Strange, but he quieted quickly.

"If I remember right, I was winning to begin with. But if that makes you feel better, I wouldn't have it any other way." He nudged at her shoulder playfully with his fist as he passed her, setting his cup down with the whisk of his finger.

"Strange." Valr started and faced him, only to find his back to her.

"Hmm?" he answered, his cup raised,

"Remember when I asked about astral projection?"

Strange set his cup down carefully and peered at her skeptically, "Yes…? I'm capable of astral, dimension, and yes, universal travel. Why?"

"_Can you really do it?_"

**00000**

Positioned beside Strange Valr sat crossed legged on the floor, emulating as much as possible how he sat. "I haven't done this in quite a while, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm rusty." He quipped, and extended his hand toward her, the gold of his gloves dark in the shadows of the room.

Strange waited a moment for Valr to grasp his hand, but sighed as she refused to comply, his concentration broken. "In order for this to work, I'll need your cooperation, Valr." He wriggled his fingers jokingly.

"So, holding your cloak was involuntary, as you would like to put it, and now you're going to make fun of me this way?" Valr swatted at his hand.

Strange did not budge despite the hit, "Do you want to warn Asgard or not? Or would you rather join me and Wong in cleaning up what's left of your mess?"

"My mess?" she echoed. "You… Alright, alright." Valr sighed and laid her hand heavily in Strange's, his fingers coiling around hers.

"I was only joking, by the way. You could have sat in the next room, and this probably would have worked." He held tight to her hand as she tried to pull away, his hand tight around hers. "Calm down. Honestly."

"Bastard." She threated. But she settled down nonetheless, her nails biting into his gloves.

**00000**

Unsure of what magic he used or what arcane abilities he possessed, Valr trusted Strange… mostly, though began to doubt when it felt as though she drifted, floated, the world around her vanishing. She shut her eyes tightly and waited for the feeling to subside, but her belly flipped this way and that, an unnatural wind running around her.

As soon as it began, the sensation ended, the cold gone away from her. And when she opened her eyes to the world once more Valr gasped, for she was not met with the darkness of the Sanctum Sanctorum, but the gold and bronze metalwork, the delicate swirling cloudscape of Asgard.

Strange hauled Valr from her knees and steadied her, his hand tight at her arm. "So this is Asgard?" he pondered aloud. "Beautiful, I'll admit."

Valr bit back a cry of elation that begged to be released. "It feels like a lifetime since I've been here."

"Technically, it has been. Well, your dying and all that." Valr blinked at him, her mouth left open at his remark.

The Sorcerer was right; there was no doubt, though the thought of the idea bit at Valr's nerves. Suddenly, she felt rather nauseous. Not because of the sensation of traveling between realms, dimensions, what have you, sent her mind reeling, but because she once again stood on the grounds of her home. It was surreal, that feeling one gets when returning from a long journey, a prolonged "vacation".

"You'll get used to it." He reassured, no doubt sensing her thoughts, but glanced back suddenly at an odd noise.

The resounding thud of a sword landing against metal sounded behind them, and the proud Heimdall stood ready at the entranceway to the Bridge Bifrost. "Who enters Asgard without my knowing?" he requested, eyeing Strange.

"Heimdall." Valr started and walked around the Doctor, coming into view of the all-seeing Gatekeeper.

"Valr…?" Heimdall murmured and sheathed his sword at his back. "You have been gone from my sight for some time." His golden eyes narrowed dangerously, "Stranger things have happened." He looked to the Sorcerer standing at Valr's back, "I was told you were stolen away," he emphasized "stolen", the word heavy on his tongue, nodding to the man behind Valr.

"Not him, Heimdall. Don't worry." She corrected, but shushed Strange as he snorted coyly, "He's a…"

"A friend." Strange answered quickly for her and cleared his throat, his cloak gathered around him from the winds that whipped around the illuminated bridge leading into the city.

"I've been staying with him on Midgard. He's a friend. Just a friend."

The Gatekeeper eyed Doctor Strange, but said nothing further on the matter, his gaze finding its way to Valr, "You bring grave news, I fear."

"Yes. But… before I see the Allfather, I want to see my family. At the very least, **my** father." Valr pleaded the best she could, her hand at the back of her neck as usual when she was nervous. "I've got some explaining to do."

"I will tell our King of your arrival. But do not tarry. For if your news is truly important, you'll not hesitate a moment more than needed." Heimdall tread forward down the bridge and toward the palace of Odin, his amber eyes looking to the Sorcerer Supreme dangerously.

"Charming fellow." Strange joked, and adjusted the Eye of Agamotto.

"He is, Strange. He just doesn't like you. Can't imagine why." Valr slapped at his chest with the back of her hand, Strange oddly offended at her remark.

"We only have a limited time with this spell, Valr. Best not to waste it."

**00000**

Together, though not comfortably, Valr and Strange traveled, she on his back, across the expanse of the Asgardian Sea. They bypassed the bridge altogether for a far faster route to Valr's home. It felt awkward, even, for when she flew on the back of Thor or caught a ride with Tony she hadn't felt odd, off. She supposed it was due to the constant bickering, that back and forth tit for tat she and Strange shared. Unknown to Valr, much to his own amusement, a simple spell could have been cast to allow her to fly upon her own volition… but such ammunition should an argument arise later proved more interesting.

And so the two stood apart at Valr's doorstep, her hand resting on the door. "Why don't you just go in? It is **your **home, isn't it?" Strange asked, straightening the wrinkles in his cloak from where Valr clung to him.

"I could. But I can't just walk in after… well, you know. There isn't an easy way to go about this." Valr rapped three times upon the door and waited anxiously for an answer.

Strange, meanwhile, was glad night had fallen on Asgard, as they would go largely unnoticed amongst its denizens. But as he waited for an answer to Valr's knock a middle aged woman, brawny and stern, heftier than two of Valr, eyed him from a nearby stoop. He grinned, waving with a Cheshire grin plastered on his cheeks. The woman, in turn, smiled, returned the favour.

Valr knocked again, pounding against the door, unaware of the flirtatious doctor. The woman seemed to be mouthing something to him, but he couldn't read her lips, left to use his overly active imagination as to what she was saying. However, just as his mind began to wander, a man, larger than the doorframe the woman stood in, peered out, curious as to what his wife stared at. Strange swallowed hard, spinning on his heel quickly to hide his face behind the collar of his cloak, not much for the idea of dueling with such a contender.

Light from inside the home pooled out onto the small stoop, and in the doorway stood an older man, half armoured with the mail of the Palace of Odin. "Father." Valr smiled at him, but was sent back, slamming into Strange's chest as she stumbled away from the swiftly closed door. That was sure to take him from his thoughts, send him tumbling back into whatever he perceived as reality.

"Mum!" she called, pulling away from Strange, and banged against the reinforced wood with a balled fist. "Mum!"

The door flew open to reveal a portly woman, larger than her husband in many respects, and far more intimidating than the palace guard. "Valr?" she gawked, and handed off a raised Morningstar to her husband, who now peered into the street. "Me daughter? By Odin's beard, girl!" she yelled and threw a stack of letters gathered at a table to her side, "We thought ye dead, an' 'ere you are!"

Her narrowed eyes focused on the sorcerer behind her daughter, "An' who's he?" she pointed at Strange, her nostrils flaring. "Nevermind." She concluded before a word left Valr or her companion, "Get inside before ye catch the death. I'll not be losin' ye again."

Strange stood awkwardly under the scrutinizing glare of Valr's father, Arn, and rightly so. Any man or boy, from Strange to Loki was seen as less than welcome in the eyes of Valr's father- and the Sorcerer Supreme was certainly no exception.

"We're happy to have you home, Valr." Arn wept, a cry in his throat at the sight of his daughter seated in their kitchen, thought dead and gone.

"This wasn't some elaborate plan, was it?" Valr's mother, Ve, spouted, "Ye didn't fake ye're death to elope with this…" she waved a carving knife in the direction of Strange, "…this mortal, ain't he? Bah!"

"Mum, it's not like that." Valr defended, her arm thrown over her eyes to block both the blush burned into her cheeks, and the grin plastered on Strange's face.

"Believe me, Madam." Strange interjected, stepping forward from the corner in which he squirreled himself away. He almost silenced himself as the gazes of Arn and Ve fell upon him, her collar growing hot. "Not that the thought isn't flattering, but I am not betrothed to your daughter." He chuckled, but cleared his throat and stared at the floor when Valr glared at him, the intensity of Clan Battle-Slain on his shoulders.

"An' a good thing." Ve jabbed her carving knife into her cutting board, a boar's haunch pinned in place, "Now, tha' lil' princely lad, Loki."

Already, Valr held her face in her hands, too embarrassed to glace up. "Tha' one's been fancyin' her since they was children. Now, 'im…"

"**Mum!**"

**00000**

Valr huffed at the entranceway to Odin's throne room, pacing to and fro to collect herself with the dire news of the approaching Chitauri. "That was… interesting." Strange mumbled and all but avoided eye contact with the young Asgardian. "Not that I'm unused to it, but… Regardless, I think it best I waited for you out here. Unless, somehow, there will be a repeat of earlier?"

"Yeah, that would be appreciated." Valr retorted and stopped her pacing long enough to take a few short steps away. "Strange… um." She stumbled on her words, even as he looked back at her. "Sorry about them. My parents. They…"

"They're your parents, Valr." He joked, finishing for her, "They're supposed to embarrass you."

**00000**

Two guards personally escorted Valr down the long expanse of the throne room to the awaiting Allfather, the One Eyed King, Odin.

Surrounded by Geri and Freki, his wolves, and Hugin and Munin, the ravens seated at his shoulders, Odin spied Valr from his throne.

Gungnir in hand, he stood and greeted Valr, his long sanguine cape thrown back behind him to drag slightly against the polished floor. "I hadn't believed Heimdall when at first he came to me." Odin admitted, inviting her forward. "And yet, here you are."

The young warrior strode forward to meet her king halfway and bowed shortly, her hand balled at her chest. She realised then she must have looked so out of place, so ridiculous, garbed in the clothes of Midgard, her armour left behind in the Sanctum. "It feels good to be back. But I have urgent news."

Gathered at his heels, Geri and Freki perked up around the Allfather, their ears forward and eyes raised to the war maiden. "I have been on Midgard for the past…" Valr pondered, "I lost track of time, but since the night of the attack." Valr was stopped short by Odin's hand, his weary eye curving in a small, tired smile, his face wizened and grizzled.

"Loki has told me much. For the time you have been gone, he has been… frantic. Even against my orders he searched for you, stole from me my ravens and scoured Midgard. Threatened Hel herself for information as to your whereabouts."

He searched the grim visage of Valr's face and saw her sadness, for she felt as though she were to blame. "Do not fret. I know you come bearing news of the Chitauri collecting on Midgard, and knew the danger that waited. I did not wish my son to invite passage into our realm, after having already been weakened enough."

"I understand." Valr admitted, though the idea Loki knew of her pained her slightly. Had he made it known to her, maybe then she would have insisted on returning to Asgard sooner. But she had been blind, just as the Allfather and Heimdall were blind to her existence in the human realm, like her being was a void in the fabric of space.

"What news do you bring me? More news of the Chitauri, I fear."

"Yes." Valr nodded and began her nervous pacing once more. "I think they're in search of the Infinity Gems. I don't know if it's for themselves or some other being controlling them, but I don't like it. Doctor Strange, the mortal I've been staying with, is in possession of the Soul Gem." Odin watched her pace, as did his wolves, saw the man, strange indeed, wandering just outside the door to the throne room.

"When the Chitauri attacked originally, on my first day on Earth, they went after another. Tony Stark. I'm not sure what for, but I know they sought Strange's gem. Why do you think they're after them?"

"A lust for power." Odin stated flatly, calming her with a hand at her back, gazing off at his kingdom, his Asgard, between the columns of the room. "Control. They seek the gems now, but their attention will soon turn to the Gauntlet."

"The Infinity Gauntlet?" Valr asked, looking to her king.

"Yes. And I am beginning to believe more and more your death was more than just mere coincidence. You say the Chitauri attacked shortly after you arrived on Midgard, and again in the home of your guardian." There came a pause in his words, "They have been following you."

The words stung. Deeply. Valr furrowed her brow in thought, worried over the prospect that any persons she came in contact with were in eventual danger. "I was afraid of that. But… there _is_ something else I have to tell you."

She breathed deeply, "I've decided to stay on Midgard. I don't like the idea that the Chitauri are wandering around. The humans, from what I've seen, don't deserve to be… attacked, killed… enslaved. Whatever it they've got planned." She smiled weakly, "I want to stay in Asgard, I do. But I can't just leave them."

"Know this." The Allfather consoled, "The Gauntlet is safe. _You_are safe. What comes, will come. What will be, will be. Do as you must, and do what you can." He turned, prepared to take his spot back on his throne, "Now. I trust you have already visited your…"

A voice, all too familiar, broke the quiet calm of the throne room, their voice hurried and shrill. "Father!" He called, appearing from what could have easily been nowhere. "I have seen Heimdall leave the palace. What has…?"

Loki stared silently, his mouth agape. He froze mid-step at the sight of Valr, his words caught on his tongue. His breath hitched in his chest at his lost friend standing before his father, his hands wringing at his sleeves. "_Valr…?_" he worded breathlessly, taking a sharp breath to catch himself.

Odin averted his gaze to Loki and lowered his head, his eyes downcast- exiting the room without a word, if only to leave the two alone.

Loki and Valr stood still as stone, rooted to the spot, neither brave enough to utter a word. But Loki stepped forward hesitantly, his shaking hands clutched at one another.

As he hurried to embrace her, his arms outstretched to encircle her; he stumbled forward, grabbing Valr awkwardly.

How, he fretted. Wondrous and fulfilling. Valr, friend and something, something dreadfully more, waited before the Asgardian prince, full and alive, caught in his embrace… and yet, he shuddered, burying the unwanted memory of holding the cold husk of her lifeless form.

"Sorry, Loki." Valr apologized quickly, unused to such physical affection from the trickster. For all her life, through her childhood and early adulthood, she never shared a hug with Loki, never asked or gave, never wanted. It was uncomfortable, her naivety with the situation, but still she raised her arms, hugging him in return. "I should have said something to Heimdall about telling you. I, uh…" Now it was time for her to grow quiet, her eyes meeting his.

"They thought me mad." Loki whispered. "I heard their whispers behind my back when I spoke of you, of what I saw." His brows lowered sadly. He reached out to place his fingers at Valr's cheek, and she forced a smile.

Her gaze darted away uncomfortably at his words, of the painful warmth that surged at her skin. "I'm sorry." She offered again, more sincere. "It's good to see you again. It's been too long." She took a step away from, his warmth making her anxious. "But I do have something to tell you. You might not…"

"When are you returning?" he asked feverishly, the very question Valr dreaded. Loki's chest heaved with anticipation, but his heart sank at her expression, how her eyes stayed glued to the floor, her hand at the back of her neck as she was accustomed to doing when nervous.

"That's what I wanted to tell you, Loki." She started, the words vile in her mind, "I **won't** be returning. Not for a while."

Loki's eyes seemed to gloss over, deepened and dark at her reply. "_What?_" he replied in disbelief. "You-You can't. I heard you say so yourself. Saw you!" Loki babbled, his green eyes darting. "Why?" was all he could muster.

"Saw me? You mean the Allfather's ravens?" she inquired defensively, taking another step back.

"He forbade me from gathering you. Too fearful of what waited, waited for Asgard's doors to open. What has Midgard offered that has caused such a change of heart?"

"It's not what_ they've_ offered, Loki." Valr defended, retreating as Loki strode forward, his steps heavy and hand gripped at his chest, if only to grasp something other than the war maiden. "It's what **I **can offer **them**. I want to protect them against the Chitauri, find out why they're after the Infinity Gems. I feel like it's kind of my fault for their being there."

"**It's not!**" Loki stormed.

For a brief moment, he could read the fear in Valr's eyes at the sight of him, the maddened Trickster God, driven to this point by his own devious obsession. "I'm sorry." He followed quickly, hurt by her reaction to him.

"It's alright. I know." Valr wished she could reach out and comfort her lifelong friend, the now crazed prince, but she could not. Still, she stepped forward, and despite her hesitation, encircled him, a reminder of the friend he knew.

Loki grasped at her, hoping for one fleeting moment she would retract her words, but he knew her mind was set. He welcomed the comfort in the caress of her body against his. He breathed deep, hoping to catch her scent, but shuddered as the silence was broken.

"Ahem." Strange called from the doorway, leaned against the frame. Loki and Valr shot up, spying him from across the room, smirking devilishly from the position he caught them in. "Sorry to ruin your 'moment', Valr, but I can't keep up the spell for much longer."

"Right." Valr pulled away from Loki, her hand ghosting at his cheek. It was unnerving, to say the least, to stare so deeply into his bright eyes, only to feel the burn of Strange's at her back. She was flustered, broken by the look in the trickster's stare. "I have to go, Loki. I'll come back, though. I'm not sure when, but **I will**. _You know I will._" She pointed to him, amusement back in her eyes.

She stood at the tips of her toes and placed a gentle kiss at Loki's cheek, her hand resting against his shoulder. And as she stepped away, the fullness of her form began to fade, "Until then. You stay out of trouble. You hear me?" she joked, before at last her image vanished alongside Doctor Strange's. "I mean it! No tricks!"

Loki was left standing alone in the throne room, and for once in what felt like an eternity, he felt calm and dread overtake him simultaneously, a bizarre amalgam.

"I don't make any promises, Valr. Trouble is what I do best."

**00000**

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**RILEY MCNAMARA **


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